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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27470344">From Grace</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothamcitysyren/pseuds/gothamcitysyren'>gothamcitysyren</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men (Original Timeline Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Author Is Sleep Deprived, Crossovers &amp; Fandom Fusions, Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, Gay Bobby Drake, Good Loki (Marvel), Hydra Tony Stark, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Magneto Was Right (X-Men), Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Tony Stark Hates Mutants, Tony Stark Is Not Helping</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:54:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>93,818</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27470344</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothamcitysyren/pseuds/gothamcitysyren</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>❝Harder than being the youngest Barton sibling, Cassandra was a mutant with uncontrolled abilities, sent to Xavier’s school in New York as a child. Once grown, she moves to New York City and creates a life for herself outside of past troubles. But the God of Mischief has a sinister plot, and now, it involves her.❞</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clint Barton/Laura Barton, Kurt Wagner/Original Female Character(s), Loki (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Knock. Knock. Knock.</em>
</p><p>The slow raps on her door were the only thing strong enough to pull her nose out of her latest thrift store find—a first edition of <em>Murder on the Orient Express</em>. It was a little beat up, with an uneasy spine and the occasional page tear, but it was hers. She wasn’t expecting company that night.</p><p>She had settled into the large, cushioned chair in the corner of her living room—a discounted item from a yard sale—with her book and a cup of chamomile, ready to relax a bit before bed. But then there was the knocking and a jolt shot through her, nearly forcing the book closed in her hands. Carefully, she placed the book on the coffee table and pushed herself out of the chair.</p><p>As she took cautious steps toward the front door, she asked herself, who would be crazy enough to come to her apartment after 9pm? Surely, not Leigh. No, she had an early shift tomorrow and wouldn’t be caught dead losing sleep for something so foolish. That woman guarded her rest like it was unearthed treasure.</p><p>But Cassandra did not know anyone else close enough for this. At least, not anymore. Then, a voice through the door. “Cass, it’s me.” It was masculine and familiar—she would know it anywhere. Her feet shuffled quickly the rest of the way, fingers fumbling with the locks. She pulled the door open to reveal the face of her older brother.</p><p>“Clint?” she asked, hopeful in the rhetorical nature of the question. “What are you...doing here? How’d you know where I live?”</p><p>He tilted his head with a small smile in a momentary expression, “You didn’t exactly pick an original alias, did ya?”</p><p>No, she had not. Claire Brown was generic, but not generic enough to be missed by someone like Clint Barton. Not when he was desperate to find his sister. Cassandra exhaled, nodding a bit as she stepped back, pulling the door open enough to usher him inside. “I guess not.”</p><p>He walked into the apartment and she was quick to shut up the door behind him. Then, she went to the kitchenette. “Want some coffee?” she asked, as she breezed by him.</p><p>“Sure. Thanks.”</p><p>Nodding to herself, she pulled a mug out of the cupboard. Clint stood at the intersection of kitchen and living room, glancing around the small space, taking in the little details. The book on the coffee table, a row of succulents planted along the window sill above the sink, random art hanging on the wall by the tiny hallway toward the bedrooms.</p><p>There wasn’t much he knew about her anymore. Though, these small things didn’t remind him of what he did know at all. It was like standing in a stranger’s home. And, in a way, he was. Cassandra brought the steaming mug to him, and he took it with a small nod. “It’s a nice place you got here,” he said, before taking a sip.</p><p>“Oh, thanks,” she took a quick glance around, inwardly cringing at the mess. Of course, a singular dirty dish always felt like a mess to her. Her eyes met Clint’s, and she asked, “So...why are you here?”</p><p>He chuckled in mild disbelief, “What do you mean? Cass, I haven’t seen you in <em>years</em>.”</p><p>“Yeah, because I ran away, Clint. I didn’t want anyone <em>seeing</em> me.”</p><p>Clint stared at his sister quietly, trying not to absorb the hurt the words hurled at him caused. He’d thought he wasn’t just anyone—he was her brother. That had to count for something, didn’t it? He looked away from her to the hallway, the wall, then the floor. Cassandra took a deep breath as realization smacked the space between her eyes.</p><p>It flooded her gut with a nauseating guilt, and she swallowed hard to ignore it. “Things weren’t going well for me at the school, so I left,” she tried to explain. “You were going places and I needed to figure out my life, too-”</p><p>“Do you have a boyfriend?” Clint suddenly asked.</p><p>Cassandra’s brow knitted in confusion. Perplexed by the question, she followed his eyes along the length of the hallway, to the open door of the master bedroom—and a breath caught in her throat. On the faux wood floor beside her bed was a crumpled up dress shirt. It was visibly bigger than Cassandra’s frame, and it didn’t make sense that she would own it.</p><p>She did not, but she didn’t have a boyfriend, either. “Oh- no, no,” she replied, mumbling as she walked quickly down the hall. She pulled the bedroom door shut and exhaled. “That’s my neighbor’s. I need it for a project.”</p><p>Clint eyed her skeptically as she made her way back to the living area. He caught half of the excuse—though, there was no reason to press the issue, other than the desire to know her, the in’s and out’s of her new life. “Look, I didn’t mean to stress you out. If you’re not ready for in-person visits, just give me a call, okay?” he said, digging into his jacket pocket to retrieve a card.</p><p>He’d written a phone number on it just for this purpose—in case she was a little too flighty. He held it out to her and, when she was close enough, she took it gratefully. “Yeah, okay,” she nodded in agreement.</p><p>“Thanks for the coffee.”</p><p>He set the mug on the small kitchen island and turned to head for the door. Cassandra’s heart sank. She’d been so used to hiding that being visible again felt like being naked. It was frightening and rattled her bones, but it genuinely pained her to watch him leave. He had just opened the door when she started taking steps toward him.</p><p>“Wait-”</p><p>But Clint was already turning around to see her a second before she flung her arms around his shoulders. He was taken aback by the sudden affection but it was incredibly welcome. As he wrapped his arms around her torso to reciprocate the gesture, she pulled away. “It was really nice to see you,” she told him, taking a step back. “Can I call you tomorrow?”</p><p>“Of course—any time you need me, just call.”</p><p>He left the apartment and Cassandra locked the door, and it was as though he never knocked. The only trace left was the mug on the counter, and that was gone the second she rinsed it in the sink and placed it on the drying rack. She shuffled to the living room to retrieve her book and then down the hall to her room to climb into bed.</p><p>However, the moment she opened the door her eyes landed on the crumpled dress shirt. Sighing heavily, her fingers plucked it from the ground, before dropping her weight onto the edge of the bed. No, she didn’t have a boyfriend. She had a wish.</p><p>It had been months since that shirt had first touched the floor. She’d picked it up almost every night since, letting the fabric against her skin remind her she wasn’t crazy, she hadn’t imagined it all. If she did, the shirt wouldn’t exist. Though, it was hard not to feel just a little insane. Cassandra pulled the fabric to her face and took in a deep breath, letting her eyes close. It still smelled like him—like cedar and musk—and it never failed to put a twinge in her gut.</p><p>She fell back against the comforter and exhaled, holding the clothing to her chest. All she had was the hope that maybe, some day, he would show up somewhere again. Every time before had been a surprise. Maybe he would surprise her again? Until then, she would have to keep clinging to just a shirt, just this little bit of hope.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. fulfilled longing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She woke to the sound of a loud horn blast, sending her heart into her throat as she suddenly lurched upright. A light breeze traveled in from the bedroom window and, with it, the voices of disgruntled men. Cassandra rolled her eyes before sliding out of bed with a groan. As usual, the morning came too soon. </p><p>Her youthful joints were already popping and whining in disgust of her life choices and she didn’t have the heart to fight them on it. She did love being a florist, building a home out of that small apartment—but something about it didn’t agree with her body. Instead of allowing herself to wallow in the mild depression of the morning, she tried to brush over it with a hot shower, fresh clothes, and a bagel for breakfast. </p><p>Every morning started the same—wake up, joints pop, shower, dress, have a small breakfast, and finally make coffee for the road in her travel mug. It was repetitive and sometimes loathsome, but the schedule she kept to seemed to help quiet her mind for the moments left empty. So, she filled her travel mug, and put it with her purse in the basket of her bicycle. She found biking to work was much better than walking.</p><p>The distance to the flower shop wasn’t all that great, though biking helped take a bit of time off her usual commute. She locked her apartment door—double, triple checking—and then made her way down to the lobby and out onto the sidewalk. Car horns honked, pigeons cooed beside the building, and some oddly metallic sounds were coming from the construction across the street, but the temperature was nice and her hopes were high.</p><p>Hope for a good day, nice customers, and breathtaking floral arrangements. Still, hope he would be in the city somewhere. That they would meet when she was least expecting it like every time before. There was a word for her childlike persistence, she knew—<em>foolish</em>. Yet there it was, unbridled and unforgiving.</p><p>She strapped on her helmet and began pedaling along the street. The flower shop was on a corner just four blocks away. She’d met the owner, Sandra, at the laundromat just down the street from her apartment building only a week after moving in. They struck up a kind conversation and Sandra mentioned her profession. Cassandra had always loved flowers, and she told Sandra as much.</p><p>But Sandra had been looking for another hand in the shop for weeks. She’d tried many different options and no one quite fit the way she wanted. Then, she offered Cassandra a job—or, <em>Claire Brown</em>, a job. There hadn’t been much luck applying to other places, so Cassandra accepted, and began a short apprenticeship at<em> Sandra’s Flowers</em>.</p><p>Their friendship was almost immediate—and it surprised her. She hadn’t been such fast friends with someone in years and, if anything, their age difference only made it easier. Every day was like being mentored by her mother. Or, a kinder version of the woman she remembered. It helped her further adjust to the newness of the big city, living alone after being overcrowded for so long.</p><p>When she arrived that morning, the glass doors were propped open and the flower displays were just outside, along the front windows of the shop. Cassandra dismounted and carried her bicycle through the store to the back, where she parked it every day. Leigh was helping a man decide on the right arrangement for an engagement dinner in the corner.</p><p>She gave Cassandra a small smile and Cassandra returned it, along with a small nod, as she passed through. Leigh had worked at the shop only a year before Cassandra was hired—but it was nice to finally have some company on the slow, and busy, days. The newest recruit tied her <em>Sandra’s Flowers</em> apron behind her back, straightening her name tag as she stepped behind the front counter.</p><p>Leigh was there, finishing her customer’s transaction. “And there you are,” she said, giving the man his receipt. “Have a great day.”</p><p>“Thanks—you, too,” the man nodded, retrieving the arrangement from the counter. He headed out of the shop and Leigh exhaled, relaxing her shoulders as she turned to smile once again at Cassandra. This time, a genuine, full smile.</p><p>“Morning, Claire,” she greeted. “How was your weekend?”</p><p>Cassandra smiled back, but the question was hard to answer honestly. How was her weekend? Lonely. Uncannily lonely. She gave a small shrug and scrunched up her nose as her fingers fidgeted with the name tag still. “It was great, actually. How was yours? Do anything fun?”</p><p>As Leigh rattled off the details of her weekend date, Cassandra busied herself with restocking the displays inside the shop, nodding along and commenting when required. Mentally, she was barely there. More and more, it seemed her mind was getting away from her—either running to him or running away completely. </p><p>Her hands worked as they had many times before, gentle but precise with the stems and petals, despite the complacency. When she came back from her far away place, she was straightening a vase of chrysanthemums, roses, and daisies. The coloring of the arrangement was one of her favorites—deep reds and rusty oranges with a soft touch of white. Leigh was at the front counter still, writing down an order list for Sandra. “It would be really fun if you joined us next time,” she told Cassandra.</p><p>Having missed vital context, Cassandra only chuckled to mask her cluelessness. “I don’t know. I’m not good at third-wheeling.”</p><p>“We’ve got to find you someone,” Leigh said. “Can you imagine? <em>Us</em>, double-dating?”</p><p>“It would be a train wreck,” Cassandra smiled, moving to another display, closer to the counter.</p><p>“The maintenance guy at my place is kind of attractive—I could give you his number?” Leigh offered. She leaned into the counter on her forearms, looking up from her list to give her friend a sarcastic look.</p><p>Cassandra chuckled again, shaking her head, “Thanks, but I don’t think I’m that desperate. I don’t know...I guess I’m waiting on somebody?”</p><p>Leigh’s eyebrows raised in intrigue. “Oh? This is the first I’m hearing about this,” she said, only playfully offended. “Is he hot? Wait. He’s a doctor, isn’t he? A lawyer?”</p><p>“No, no—neither of those,” Cassandra once again shook her head.</p><p>There was a momentary silence. It was uncharacteristic of Leigh not to respond for so long, even when focusing on a task. The lack of further questioning prompted Cassandra to glance up at her friend. When she did, she saw Leigh paused behind the counter, her eyes drifted toward the front door.</p><p>But, upon her glance, Leigh looked back to Cassandra. She tripped over herself to speak again, rushing. “So, out with it. Who is this guy?” she questioned. Her eyes flickered again toward the door and Cassandra’s eyebrows knitted. What was she looking at? It wasn’t easy to steal her attention like that, she knew.</p><p>Then, arms encircled her, tightening around her torso from behind. As a jolt shot through her muscles, heat surged through palms—shattering the vase in her hands with a small flash of purple before it even had the chance to touch the ground. The glass swirled amongst the water now pooled on the concrete floor, and the flowers escaped with their lives but the stems were singed.</p><p>“Oh dear,” as the arms around her loosened, a male voice in her ear sent a rush along her spine. Her eyes, desperate and hopeful, moved quickly in the man’s direction and her lungs stalled. <em>Loki</em>. “That’s unfortunate.”</p><p>“What are you doing here?” </p><p>All she could do was stare. But the attention of his blue irises was enough to pull at her lips, curving them into the first genuine smile she’d given in weeks, her cheekbones prickling with warmth. </p><p>He smirked down at her, “Well, I desired the company of a very beautiful, very clumsy woman—and it appears I'm in the right place.”</p><p>Leigh emerged from behind the counter with a broom and dust pan, and hurried over to the display to clean up the glass. “Wow. I’ve never seen you so jumpy, Claire,” she joked, as she arrived.</p><p>Cassandra blinked hard as it finally came back to her—she’d broken the vase with a pure bolt of energy. Thankfully for her sake, the display was just enough in the way, blocking Leigh’s eyesight to just what transpired. But Cassandra was quick to make an excuse, to add to the illusion, nervously chuckling and kneeling to pick up the larger pieces. “I skipped breakfast. Guess I’m just a little shaky.”</p><p>It’d been quite a while since her last slip. So long she had almost forgotten what it felt like to lose control, even for a second. But a second was still too long. Cassandra took a deep breath and stood, swiftly carrying the pieces she’d retrieved off the floor to the garbage bin behind the counter.</p><p>“My apologies,” Loki smiled politely at Leigh as she swept. “I didn’t mean to make such a mess.”</p><p>Leigh shook her head, waving away the idea with a brief hand gesture, then knelt to sweep the glass into her dust pan, “Don’t worry about it—it happens all the time.”</p><p>She stood with her full dustpan and held out her free hand. “I’m Leigh, Claire’s friend—and, co-worker,” she chuckled casually. “It’s nice to meet you.”</p><p>Loki shook her hand, though a bit awkwardly, “Loki. The pleasure is all mine. Claire speaks of you often.”</p><p>Cassandra dropped the glass in the bin and hurried back around the end of the counter, across the store to Leigh, who now retracted her hand with a subtle brow-raise. There was something odd about the way he spoke, but it was almost charming—a contradiction that left Leigh a bit more than curious. “Um, would you mind covering me today?” Cassandra asked her, diverting the conversation. “I know I just got here-”</p><p>“No, I got it. Looks like a slow day anyway.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Cassandra smiled, and Leigh smiled back knowingly.</p><p>Cassandra untied her apron and carried it to the back room, placing it on the hook where it was not an hour earlier. She walked her bicycle into the store and motioned to Loki. “Come on,” she said, before continuing toward the door. Loki gave Leigh a nod and another polite smile and Leigh returned it before heading for the garbage bin.</p><p>He followed Cassandra out of the flower shop onto the somewhat busied sidewalk, and fell into step with her along the other side of the bicycle. It hadn’t felt that long since his last visit to Midgard but, when her irises rolled his way, something swelling in his chest and he knew—it had been far too long. “So? Do anything exciting this time?” she inquired, smiling up at the Asgardian. </p><p>It felt like a kind of weight had been lifted from her shoulders. The newfound emotional freedom gave her the room to be excited, to be happy. It radiated off her as they walked together. Loki gave a small chuckle, “Traveling in secret to Midgard is fairly exhilarating.”</p><p>Cassandra’s lips quirked to one side, playfully skeptical. “I was kind of starting to think you weren’t coming back,” she confessed, as they rounded the corner toward her apartment building. “You were gone for such a long time.”</p><p>Loki put a hand on the handlebars of the bike, stopping her. “Know that if it were my choice, I wouldn’t ever have left,” he told her. His voice was so sincere, so warm that it felt too hard to question it—and trusting it so easily felt wrong. But he took the bicycle from her and carried it up the stairs, and she couldn’t force herself to bring it up again.</p><p>Instead, she fumbled for her keys and unlocked the door, stepping inside to open it wide enough to fit the bicycle through the frame. Cassandra locked the door behind them, and Loki put the bike beside the door in the living area—right where he knew she’d kept it before—before hanging his coat. It had been months since the last time he set foot in her apartment but the space looked virtually the same.</p><p>With a brief glance, only a few dishes in the kitchen appeared to be in a different place. She was a creature of habit, he knew. He’d discovered that about her rather quickly. Her likes, dislikes, traditions, hobbies—they were simple and easily remembered, and distinctly her. As she took steps away from the door, he turned to find her beaming at him as she always had. </p><p>“I don’t suppose you’re hungry?” she asked, standing before him. “I can make you some tea? I didn’t know when you’d be back so I bought another box of the ginger stuff you liked-”</p><p>Her delicate voice was interrupted as he swiftly closed the space between them and cupped her face, pressing an almost desperate kiss to her lips. Admittedly, he missed her. The adoration and life in her eyes, the sweet taste she left on his tongue, and the way she always smelled like the flowers she spent her days around. But although the touch sent her head spinning, heart fluttering—she could feel something was different. Something was different about this visit.</p><p>It wasn’t the spontaneity or kind gestures. Those things were common. Though, she’d never heard him say he didn’t want to leave. Not so sincere, so genuine. There was sadness there—she could see it. And now he was kissing her like he had before, but he relaxed into her like he’d lost a weight of his own. She wanted to hold out just a little longer. But the shift in feeling was nagging at her.</p><p>“Hey,” she spoke softly, fingers loosely wound around the exposed skin at his wrists as she broke the kiss. She searched his eyes. “Are you okay?”</p><p>Loki chuckled, his features smoothly hiding any indication the answer could be ‘no’. But there was something about the way she looked up at him so tenderly, piercing irises filled with a shade of worry—it was like she was seeing right through him. “Of course. I’m here with you, aren’t I?” he replied, with a sweet smile.</p><p>Cassandra was no stranger to lies. She’d been raised on them, and was now burdened with the ability to see them—even when they were the last thing she wanted to see. He had a habit of hiding them in his eyes. They were always delivered so beautifully, but they were there still, a speck of black on the ever dazzling charade. </p><p>She smiled a little as she gently tugged on his wrists, pulling his hands from her face. “I’ll make tea,” was all she said, before treading lightly to the kitchen. It wasn’t the first time she’d retreated from him when he told her a falsehood. That kind of behavior was hard to miss, considering his unusual talent for deception. Somehow, she knew. Although, he was unsure just how much.</p><p>Sometimes the retreat was subtle and others it was like a slap across the face. Loki watched her fill a tea pot and place it on the stove as he came to stand on the other side of the island. Not once did she look over her shoulder despite feeling his eyes. “What would you like to hear?” he inquired. Though, it wasn’t truly a question. It was a test. </p><p>It was only then she looked over her shoulder. “I won’t force you to talk about it, Loki,” she replied, calmly. “But, if it makes you feel better about it, I can share, too.”</p><p>His eyebrow arched, intrigued, “Oh? And here I thought I’d been beguiled by all the stories you had to offer already.”</p><p>Cassandra exhaled and turned to face him before hunching over, leaning into the countertop on folded forearms. “My brother showed up at my door last week. I guess we’re talking again,” she told him.</p><p>“Which one?”</p><p>He took a step forward and mirrored her position on the countertop, clasping his hands in front of him, and Cassandra fought a smile. “Clint,” she answered. “The decent one.”</p><p>“And what did he want? Surely, it was something important after abandoning you as he did.”</p><p>She tilted her head, eyes drifting to the countertop. That was something she didn’t allow herself to think about. Of course, looking back, refusing to help her all those years ago was reasonable. Still, it stung. “He just wanted to see me,” she spoke quietly, readjusting her forearms. “Still can’t stand <em>your</em> brother?”</p><p>“He’s not my brother,” he replied quickly, coldly, pushing off the countertop to stand upright. Loki’s demeanor had changed in an instant from something calm instead to something defensive. Cassandra was confused. It was clear the topic of family was touchy from the beginning of whatever their relationship was. But she’d never quite gotten this reaction. </p><p>She’d never gotten something so subtly hostile. As she, too, pushed off the countertop to stand upright, she opened her mouth to speak—but the Asgardian beat her to it. “He never was,” he said the words as he took a step away from the island, turning to walk slowly toward the living room. “I’m no prince of Asgard.”</p><p>“Am I supposed to look at you differently now?”</p><p>Her words caused him to stop, turn back around with confusion and mild irritation, but he didn’t see what he was expecting. Surely, she was mocking him, wasn’t she? Making light of the situation? However, Cassandra looked at him from the kitchen with <em>empathy</em>. It wasn’t for mockery—it was for assurance. She didn’t intend to mock him at all.</p><p>The surprise was almost enough to break through his hardened features, but they stubbornly remained. “You don’t understand, Cassandra,” he gave a shake of his head, walking toward the kitchen. “I am not only a fraud, but a <em>monster</em>.”</p><p>Her eyebrows raised in anger hearing that word. It had been slung at her and people like her since she was a child to make her seem as something other than human. Something dangerous and unworthy. Hearing such a word again sent a pang of hurt at the left side of her chest. She stepped around the end of the island, meeting him where he’d stood before.</p><p>“What the hell about you is so monstrous?” she questioned, crossing her arms.</p><p>Shoulders slumped inward, weight on the balls of her feet, and a look in her eye that was arguably murderous—protecting herself but ever ready to protect someone else. After all, that’s what she was trained to do. No matter how much she wanted to scrub that part of her life from her mind, it was always there, just waiting to be provoked into use.</p><p>Loki watched the split-second change just as she had done him, but nothing about the way she reacted felt menacing. It was <em>comforting</em>. As though she were asking a child who had been bullying them. A mother protecting her young. It was then that a sharp whistle caused her to startle, whirling to face the stove. Steam shot through the spout of the teapot, screaming wildly. Cassandra moved quickly to turn off the heat and remove it from the burner, placing it aside to reach for mugs out of the cupboard, and the sound slowly died out.</p><p>“I was called a monster. A <em>freak</em>. Every name in the fucking book,” she was seething, ripping the tops off the tea bags and shoving the pouches of leaves into the mugs. “There’s nothing <em>wrong</em> with us, Loki. We’re just <em>different</em>.”</p><p>“I’m afraid most Asgardians do not share that sentiment.”</p><p>A heavy exhale of anger and annoyance escaped her but the air <em>trembled</em>. Loki stepped around the end of the island, into the kitchen, and came to stand beside her. The frustration, irritation, it hung around her like paused droplets of rain he could feel. Gently, he reached out and his fingers encircled her wrists. Though, that wasn’t what stopped her so suddenly. </p><p>It was the color of his skin—blue, like frostbite, and ridged by paper thin lines. Her eyes widened but, again to his surprise, she didn’t shy away. She didn’t even startle. Instead, Cassandra only moved her eyes up to his face, searching. Every inch of his skin was the same blue color. His eyes were now colored orange-red. Lines on his forehead made a half circle, retreating into his hairline.</p><p>Her expression softened, then, as a small smile crept onto her face. “You call that a monster?” she lightheartedly joked, voice quiet. “I’ve known three people in my life so far that looked like you.”</p><p>“Others?” he asked, head tilted with intrigue.</p><p>“Two of them were good friends—Kurt was arguably my <em>best</em> friend. He had blue skin, but it was a lot darker, and his eyes were yellow. He could do what I could.”</p><p>His eyebrow quirked as a smirk began to pull at his lips, “Blast things into oblivion?”</p><p>“Teleportation,” she chuckled softly, a sound that eased the tense muscles of his shoulders. Everything about her calmed him. It always did. This time, it didn’t feel like such a hindrance—it felt like a privilege. A relief. He lifted a hand, running a thumb over her cheekbone, and she found herself instinctively leaning into the touch.</p><p>Heart swelling, she reached up, then, and took hold of the black tie hanging from his neck, pulling gently as she rose up on her toes until she could reach. His pale blue lips melded with hers slowly, openly. He snaked his arms around her torso, bringing her close against his chest, and her hands found their way into his hair. They always did.</p><p>The air felt warm with a loving acceptance, the heat making it harder to breathe as their kisses were quicker, <em>deeper</em>. Loki turned them, pressing her lower back against the counter with his body, a hand moving up to brush her hair off her shoulder as his lips moved to the sensitive skin of her neck. “I’ve missed you,” he murmured the confession.</p><p>She was breathless, “I missed you, too.”</p><p>His lips trailed toward her collarbone and her fingers worked quickly to pull off his tie, discarding it on the kitchen floor. Then, they worked at the buttons of his shirt with a kind of determination they so rarely possessed. He chuckled against her skin. “<em>Someone’s</em> eager,” he mused, close to her ear.</p><p>Though, he didn’t mind. There was a fire in his gut—a craving, a <em>desire</em>—growing with every touch of skin, every taste of her lips. Cassandra pushed his shirt from his shoulders and he pulled his arms from the sleeves, parting enough to find her eyes. “Guess I missed you <em>a lot</em>,” she said, with a small chuckle. It elicited a mischievous smile that pierced her chest, blue skin and reddened eyes be damned.</p><p>She tugged up the hem of her sweater until it was over her head. The clothing was tossed aside on the tile with the others and, in a heartbeat, their lips were connected again—toiling hungrily.  “Better not waste our time, then,” he spoke quietly, pulling away from her.</p><p>He bent, hands sliding behind her thighs and she caught on, wrapping her arms around his neck and shoulders and hopping up. Once her legs hooked around his hips, he took a step back, and a rush of purple smoke and electricity engulfed them. They reappeared in Cassandra’s room in the same display of smoke.</p><p>However, distracted, her calculations were off by several inches. The backs of his knees hit the side of the bed—<em>hard</em>—forcing him to drop, back against the mattress with a light bounce, and Cassandra couldn’t hold back a string of surprised laughter, pressing a hand into the bed to keep their foreheads from colliding. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” he questioned, rhetorically, as he reached up to push her hair behind her ears.</p><p>Loki’s hands roamed the exposed skin of her neck and shoulders, soaking in her warmth and relishing the softness as they trailed her arms. She shook her head quickly, now displaying a mischievous smile of her own despite the truth of her words, “That was an accident, I swear.”</p><p>He hummed in playful skepticism, before moving a hand to the back of her neck, tugging her close—and their lips met openly, deeply, swallowing any laughter left from the mishap. Reaching behind her to unclasp her bra, they parted long enough to toss it somewhere off the edge of the bed. </p><p>It fell to the floor beside the crumpled dress shirt, returned to its usual spot due to her erratic sleeping behaviors. The shirt had only touched the floor in months past from a situation not unlike this one. They were in a similar position—her straddling his waist, nothing but a pair of lace underwear between them as they kissed each other hard enough to leave bruises.</p><p>Even now, once they discarded the last of their clothing, they devoured each other. The lust swelling within Loki’s chest traveled to his gut and lower still, solidifying his already hardened erection—almost painfully so. He was throbbing with need, her drenched core against him enough to send a soft moan into his throat as his fingers dug into her hips.</p><p>She swallowed the sound, shuddering as it reached her gut, kindling a fire beneath the knot already wound tight there. It wasn’t enough. The urge to move, to do something more was overwhelming. She acted on her impulses, sliding her fingers into his hair and giving a gentle tug before moving her lips to his neck as her hips slowly moved, dragging her wetness up his shaft. The action alone was enough to calm the beast but the desperate, open-mouthed moan that escaped him begged it to continue. “<em>Cassandra</em>,” he panted her name, voice thick with desire as she moved a little faster. “I can’t wait much longer.”</p><p>“What do you want, Loki?”</p><p>She knew what he wanted. It was the same thing she wanted. But there was always something about hearing it out loud—or better, hearing him <em>beg</em>. Maybe it was simply the thrill in the idea that a powerful being from another realm would sound so utterly desperate when touched by her, a mortal human? </p><p>It was an empowering jolt of lust and confidence right into her veins. She felt the vibration of his voice in her tongue as she licked and kissed the left side of his neck. “I want to be inside you,” his hands guided her hips now, adding pressure, and she bit down on his earlobe to stifle an ungodly sound in her throat. “I want to feel you clench around me. Ride me until I fill you with my seed, and then I’ll lick you clean.”</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>, why are you so good at that?” she whined, before pushing herself up, sitting back on his hips, hands furiously combing back her wild brown locks.</p><p>Despite the tremble of anticipation in his muscles and the fire in his lungs, a smirk broke out across his face at the gentle stroke of his ego, staring up at his lover with eyes full of nothing but <em>hunger</em>. “You make it easy.”</p><p>A hand on his chest, the other on his shaft to guide him, she lowered herself onto him in one fluid motion—not stopping until there was nowhere left to go. The pulsating warmth engulfing him to the hilt elicited a sharp hiss as she exhaled a breathy moan. Her stomach already felt too tight, that knot coiling tighter with every subtle movement as she was filled so completely. </p><p>She leaned forward, palms braced against the sheets beside his head, and their noses brushed. “Look at me,” she whispered the demand, lifting her hips before easing them back down, taking him in once more. He did as told with no other options—the weight of her eyes boring into his soul yet again was too great, even for him. His hands remained firm on her hips but they were still.</p><p>Cassandra continued the same action a second time before beginning to rock her hips, and he swallowed an ounce of self restraint, allowing himself to buck his own hips with her movements. Sounds of pleasure fell from their mouths with each timed thrust, their eyes transferring heat between their gazes. It was lustful and needy but just as passionate and intimate. </p><p>Pushing herself upright again, she quickened her pace, and he adjusted his thrusts to match. Then, he removed a hand from her waist to brace against the mattress, sitting up as desire swelled in his chest—and he kissed her hard. Her hands gripped at his hair as their mouths opened, granting his tongue access to her mouth. It was a whirlwind of intense emotions, one of which a profound sense of fulfilled <em>longing</em>.</p><p>Longing for comfort, for safety, for <em>love</em>. It wasn’t long before they reached their highs, when the tightrope they’d been walking finally snapped. Pure ecstasy filled Cassandra’s veins, clinging to Loki as she called out his name in utter bliss, and it was her release that triggered his. He came through gritted teeth with a sharp hiss, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he filled her with warmth.</p><p>They sat there for a long moment, heavy breathing and the construction across the street the only sounds left in the bedroom. Loki began to place slow, gentle kisses on her shoulder and along her collar bone, and her forehead remained pressed to his neck, allowing her eyes to close as she caught her breath.</p><p>“That was magnificent, darling,” he spoke quietly, close to her ear.</p><p>A loose, sloppy smile of satisfaction settled onto her lips as she lifted her head, meeting his eyes. “Yes, it was,” she said, reaching her hands up to smooth over the rat’s nest she’d made out of his inky locks. “Now, when do I get to be cleaned?”</p><p>The corners of his mouth upturned into that trademark smirk of his—the one she’d come to truly adore—and he slipped his arms around her torso before shifting his weight, turning them over until her back pressed into the mattress. “Right now.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. those special few</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She sprung upright with a strangled cry, hands flying to her chest as her eyes looked desperately for the red—on her hands, on her clothes, <em>everywhere</em>. However, she could barely see two feet in front of her. The shades were still down, the window closed, and every light in her apartment off. It was the dead of night.</p>
<p>The second her voice touched his ears, Loki was awake. He jolted up, quick to reach for the bedside lamp, pulling the string to illuminate whatever danger lurked in the darkness. Except, there wasn't any. None he could see. The danger was only in her head, but the realization of this did nothing to calm her. Her chest heaved as her lungs worked to keep up with the rapid pace of her heart, beating a wild drum from the confines of her rib cage.</p>
<p>That feeling of realness lingered and she swallowed hard, screwing her eyelids shut. It had been almost a year since her last nightmare. At least, a nightmare she'd lived through. "Cassandra," Loki inched closer beneath the comforter, reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder. "Are you alright, dear?"</p>
<p>"It's...it's nothing. I'm fine. Sorry- I didn't mean to wake you."</p>
<p>She pushed back the blanket and slid off the bed, the nerves in her bare feet soaking in the shock of the cold wood as she pattered quickly into the bathroom. As the door shut behind her, Loki exhaled. He'd only seen this happen to her once before and it was just as aching to see it then as it was now. It was a feeling of helplessness that nearly drove him mad.</p>
<p>He got out of bed, then, and traveled the hallway to the kitchen. A wave of his hand turned on the light as he used the other to rub his tired eyes. There wasn't much to be done for her, but he knew she needed comfort—and that usually came from familiarity. So, he filled the teapot with water and set it on the stove top, turning it on as she'd shown him in visits past.</p>
<p>Cassandra ran the warm water in the bathroom, scooping some up to scrub her face with trembling hands. There were a handful of moments in her life that decided to stay long past their welcome. They laid dormant in the back of her mind, waiting for the right conditions, and then turned her world on its head when the time came.</p>
<p>When she came out of the bathroom after a few minutes alone, her mind had not quite settled just yet. But, she found her bed empty. From the hall, a light shone on the floor, and she followed it to the kitchen. Her feet felt heavy, shuffling along the flooring without much strength in her legs to lift them up.</p>
<p>Loki had just poured the boiling water from the teapot into her favorite mug, positioned on the island countertop for her to take when she arrived, hair disheveled and under eyes puffy. "How long has it been since the last one?" he asked the question gently, setting the teapot back onto the stove.</p>
<p>Cassandra scrubbed her face once more, the lingering feeling of dried liquid nagging at her a little too hard. "Almost a year," she answered, voice hoarse from a dry throat. "I'm really sorry. You don't have to stay up-"</p>
<p>"And leave you out here to wallow alone? But wallowing's my favorite activity."</p>
<p>He kept his sarcasm lighthearted, voice soft, and it was an effort she appreciated. Sighing heavily, she forced herself to move forward, taking steps toward him—and he opened his arms to engulf her in a warm embrace as she approached. It wasn't as though she'd never been cared for this way. There had been times before in her youth when she'd woken up terrified and was calmed by a reassuring touch and a familiar face.</p>
<p>It felt like those days weren't so far behind her now, finding herself in that same situation not many years later. The only difference being—back then—she shared a room with a girl of similar age, and she was often the first to comfort her. Cassandra allowed her eyes to close, remembering her face as she briefly wondered what she looked like now, if she was still in that same room, wondering about her, too. But if she were forced to choose between past comfort and present, she would choose present with virtually no hesitation.</p>
<p>There was simply something about being terrorized by your own mind and escaping it within the arms of your beloved. Something <em>special</em>. Here, all that filled her mind was the beat of his heart through his chest—a sound that flooded her veins with peace. Then, a knock at the door burst through it like a cannonball. It wasn't so much the suddenness of the sound that startled her upright—it was the fact that it was happening at all. Cassandra and Loki both stared quizzically at the apartment door.</p>
<p>"Who could that be?" he asked, glancing down at her.</p>
<p>She shook her head, blinking her tired eyes, and took steps toward the door. Whoever was on the other side knocked again—harder, <em>louder </em>this time. In a bout of mild frustration, Cassandra quickened her pace. She unlocked the door and pulled it open in a fluid motion, finding herself being forced to look upward to meet the eyes of the face it revealed.</p>
<p>Her head tilted, forehead creasing. "<em>Logan</em>?"</p>
<p>"Hey, kid," he looked begrudged, clearly reluctant to even be there, let alone at that hour. His eyes moved away from her, to the man standing in her kitchen. "Sorry to barge in on you like this. I need a favor"</p>
<p>In that moment, it was as if a certain switch had flipped in her mind and, despite prior reservations, she stepped back to usher him inside. "Come in."</p>
<p>He was hesitant—taking slow steps in. His eyes only drifted away, back to Cassandra's, once from where Loki stood. The Asgardian was well aware of who this man was. After all, Cassandra had slowly but surely told him details of all those people—the people like her. <em>Mutants</em>, she'd called them. Logan, he knew, was the man with metal claws and insatiable rage. And, as much as Loki inwardly desired to see them in use, he was not in the habit of putting his lovers in danger.</p>
<p>No, it was smarter to stay still. Stay quiet. Quickly, Cassandra shut up the door behind Logan before coming to stand in front of him, peering up at his perpetually disgruntled face. "Did something happen?" she questioned, worry plucking at the strings of her chest. "Is everyone okay?"</p>
<p>"Everyone's fine. Listen—I need a ride home," he grumbled, finally meeting her eyes.</p>
<p>"Logan, you know I don't drive."</p>
<p>He tilted his head, "<em>You</em> know I'm not talkin' about a car."</p>
<p>A heavy sigh escaped her as she shifted her weight onto her heels, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. It was then her eyes caught sight of the dark stains on his shirt, hiding beneath the open folds of his thick jacket, and she knew. The Wolverine had just won a fight. With whom, she didn't care to ask. All the knowledge did was bring back a memory of the traumatic moment she'd so violently woken from less than an hour before that caused the muscles of her stomach to clench.</p>
<p>"It's an hour away—get a cab," she all but snapped at him.</p>
<p>"I get it, you're out. But our world doesn't stop spinning just because you decided you had enough," he leaned toward her, lowering his voice. "I've got information that needs to get to the professor, <em>now</em>."</p>
<p>She straightened her shoulders at the mention of Charles Xavier. He'd been beloved by her and every other mutant child he harbored within the walls of his school, but now she was apprehensive. Still, she tried to reason with herself. She would not go inside, only place Logan at the door and be back in the safety of her apartment—how hard could that be?</p>
<p>Physically, not difficult at all. Logan said whatever information he now had was time sensitive and, nightmares aside, she did truly trust that beast of a man. An airy growl of frustration, annoyance directed at herself escaped her throat as she turned on her heel, and she marched down the hall to the bedroom. She couldn't exactly go outside in a t-shirt and underwear—not with the possibility of being spotted.</p>
<p>There were always children awake at this hour, little hell-raisers who refused to adhere to rules, or just simply felt too much terror to sleep through the night. She did not want a single one of them gazing out their window happening to see her when she arrived out front in so little clothing. It would be as jarring for her as it would for them.</p>
<p>So, she pulled on the first pair of jeans her hand touched and brought a jacket back to the front of the apartment. Logan remained in the same place, his eyes locked with Loki's from where he stood still in the kitchen. There was something off about him. Logan couldn't deny the man was conventionally attractive, and he didn't <em>look </em>like a dead-beat otherwise—but his scent was different.</p>
<p>It wasn't like anything he'd encountered before, and it planted a small seed of concern in his chest that kept him alert. Loki retained his calm demeanor as Cassandra returned, only declining Logan's heated stare to bid her goodbye. "I'm sorry- I'll just be a few minutes," she promised, pulling on her coat and zipping it up.</p>
<p>"It's perfectly alright, dear, take as long as you need," he spoke reassuringly, hands smoothing down her arms, and Logan cocked his head. Even his <em>voice </em>sounded different to those highly attuned ears. "I'll be right here when you return."</p>
<p>She gave a small, apologetic smile and pushed up on her toes to place a quick peck on his lips. Then, she shuffled quickly to the door and shoved her feet into some shoes. "Okay, let's go," she told Logan, as she walked toward him.</p>
<p>He glanced over his shoulder at her, but by that time she had already wrapped her fingers around his wrist, and the pair disappeared within her signature burst of purple, swallowed up by the energy. They were spit out not two yards from the front door of the <em>School For Gifted Youngsters</em>, and Logan blinked.</p>
<p>"Who was that guy back there?" he questioned her. The purple of their arrival hadn't fully dissipated yet before he asked the question. Cassandra sighed heavily, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket.</p>
<p>"Doesn't matter," she shook her head. "This is what you wanted. Have a nice night."</p>
<p>It was then the door swung open, as though the sound of her nearing departure spoke it into action. The familiar sound of soft whirring filled her ears and every muscle in her back tightened to its fullest extent. Professor Xavier rolled through the front door in his silver chair. Immediately, her eyes filled with shame and they fell to the ground.</p>
<p>Logan sighed, walking forward to meet the professor halfway. "She's not staying," he said, stopping Xavier. Though, Xavier's eyes didn't leave from Cassandra's crestfallen features. He simply nodded and continued toward her. Rolling his eyes, the Wolverine proceeded to enter the building, closing the door behind him.</p>
<p>"It's been quite a while since you were last here, hasn't it, Cassandra?" Xavier spoke rhetorically, lighthearted as he came to a sudden stop two feet from her. Despite his friendly approach, she did not lift her eyes—a tactic he knew all too well to expect from her. Still, he smiled warmly up at her. "I like what you've done with your hair."</p>
<p>"Was this the plan to get me back? Was Logan in on it?"</p>
<p>She shifted her weight between feet, moving her eyes up and to the left, toward the road. The professor exhaled, relaxing back into his seat. "No. There is no master plan, no deception. I wanted to ask you how you're doing before I never see you again...<em>again</em>," he answered, honestly.</p>
<p>"Aren't you keeping tabs anyway?" her tone was flippant, still not looking him in the eyes. She could not bring herself to do it. If she did, she would want to stay for all the wrong reasons, she knew. And that was far worse than simply appearing to be a brat.</p>
<p>Xavier gave a small shake of his bald head, "I only ever look if I sense you're in danger. I promised you that a long time ago."</p>
<p>"Yeah, well, a lot of people have made a lot of promises, Charles."</p>
<p>It was a statement, a reply that by nature felt hostile, accusatory—but her voice was calm and dripping with regret, and her features were saddened. She'd been let down by many people in her life, mostly men, and he knew this very well about her. It had been a goal of his to change the way she looked at these failed relationships since she first stepped through the mahogany doors.</p>
<p>No, he did not spy on her. However, he did keep a listening ear, letting his mind find hers undetected when absolutely necessary. Given the nature of her departure from him, and even regardless of it, he felt that it was his responsibility to make sure of her safety. There were many children, young and old, that had passed through his mind—his heart—but there were a select few that stayed with him.</p>
<p>A select few that touched his very spirit in a way he couldn't ever explain, and he cared for them as though they were his own. In a way, this comforted Cassandra. Although, when she first arrived, it was downright offensive. A father figure was the very thing she'd been running from—falling right into a situation with another was incredibly frightening. Eventually, she came around. And she became one of those special few.</p>
<p>"Yes," he exhaled, the sincerely empathetic sound of his naturally soothing voice finally pulling her eyes directly to his. "I know."</p>
<p>It was then she stared into them for a silent moment, and he let her, prepared to allow her to find whatever she was searching for. But then, she cleared her throat, "Is there something going on? Something I need to know about?"</p>
<p>Again, he shook his head. "No, I don't believe so. Besides—I would not want to burden you with such information. I <em>will </em>ask that Logan doesn't request your services again."</p>
<p>She stared at him still as skepticism ebbed in her chest. Of course he wouldn't tell the truth. As he said himself, he wouldn't want her to know if they were in trouble. Or, really, even if they needed her. Her eyes narrowed a second, but she relaxed, huffing a dull chuckle. "Thanks," she said. "I need to get back."</p>
<p>"Ah, yes. Still entertaining company?"</p>
<p>The corners of Charles's mouth pulled up into a knowing smile as he backed his chair, turning halfway to prepare for his reentry into the building, but he stopped as her head bobbed in a small nod. "Yeah. Goodnight. Or—good morning, I guess."</p>
<p>She didn't wait for his response. Her form disappeared before his eyes in a cloud of smoke, wisps of purple electricity swirling as they faded out in her place. His lips pressed together in a thin line and drove forward, turning fully toward the front door. It was sometimes difficult to bite his tongue. Keeping most urged sentiments to himself was typically best, when it came to Cassandra—he knew this and, still, it felt wrong not to say them.</p>
<p>Simple things such as <em>be safe</em>, <em>take care</em>, <em>I miss you</em>, <em>I hope you're happy</em>. Phrases that portrayed his fondness were an overstep now and had been for quite some time. She'd made that clear, marching into his office that dreaded evening, filled with a deep rage yet somehow brimming with tears of genuine despair. He genuinely hoped she'd found what she was looking for in New York City. Though only an hour's drive apart, he prayed the distance would some day bring her back to him once more.</p>
<p>When Cassandra's smoke brought her body back into the apartment in the city, a deep exhalation of relief racked Loki's shoulders. He'd sat on the couch, aimed toward the front door, the muted television's light washing over him every so often. And he waited. Five minutes felt like five hours and as the minutes ticked by, his gut became twisted in a mess of anxiety and concern.</p>
<p>He sprung up at the sight of her apologetic face, taking steps toward her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be that long," she apologized, unzipping her coat. She turned to hang it by the door as she continued with an explanation, "Xavier needed to talk to me."</p>
<p>"The professor in the wheelchair?" his question was rhetorical as she faced him again.</p>
<p>"Yeah."</p>
<p>She simply nodded, averting her eyes from his face in favor of her feet, pulling them from her shoes before she could get too far from the door. Though, she'd never admit it was truly to avoid his gaze. There was too much emotion in them—worry, relief, love, and care. After the night she'd had, the contents of her stomach sloshed in a violent sway, causing her to pause at a familiar lump in her throat.</p>
<p>A calm but panicked expression smoothed over her face and Loki rushed forward, at her side in an instant, his hand gracing her shoulder carefully. "What is it?" he questioned, features etched with concern but also alertness. Cassandra couldn't speak, she knew, or whatever she'd eaten in the last several hours would come up. Though, she felt the hints that it was about to regardless.</p>
<p>Shaking her head, she broke into a brisk walk along the hallway and into the bedroom, across the space and through the bathroom door. The sloshing of her stomach contents only worsened as she walked, spreading anxiety through her chest like the branches of lightning—which, in turn, only worsened the nausea. Her hands ripped open the toilet lid and seat as she sunk to her knees, and it came up. The muscles in her stomach convulsed, all others clenching wildly as she coughed and sputtered on the bile.</p>
<p>Loki rushed to kneel beside her, hands sweeping back her brown tresses before running his palm along her spine. Admittedly, this was not something he would volunteer to do for just anyone. He wasn't too incredibly squeamish—how could he be, raised on Asgard?—but parts of life like this felt incredibly too personal. It was a vulnerable, open position to be in. However, even when her sputters became simply heavy breathing, he stayed where sat.</p>
<p>She lifted a hand, reaching for the lever, and his eyes caught sight of its tremble. As the contents of her stomach swirled away into the pipes, replaced with clean water, she sat back on her ankles with a shaky exhale. "I'm so sorry," she screwed her eyes shut, speaking numbly. "This visit is such a fucking disaster."</p>
<p>He shushed her, running a thumb gently along the side of her face, "It's alright, my dear, don't worry about that now. Let me care for you, in your time of need. Please, Cassandra."</p>
<p>It was then her heavy eyelids snapped open, blue irises darkened by the abhorrent bathroom lighting and lack of sleep moving quickly to find his. She knew there was a reason he worded it that way, and a pang of guilt sunk into her chest like a knife. Accepting help in this way had never been easy for her. She wasn't scared of someone helping her with the dishes or reaching something on a high shelf—but the help of emotional support, and care when she was weak, was no high shelf. It was no simple chore.</p>
<p>She knew deep within her mind that allowing herself to rely on someone for that was more than dangerous. It was reckless. But she was so tired, the desire to dissolve into a warm bed was growing in the space between her eyes, and she found herself melting into the soothing sensation of his hand on her back. Mentally, she promised herself this was the only exception. <em>Only tonight</em>.</p>
<p>"Okay," she nodded weakly, sighing. Then, she cracked a wry smile, "Don't let it go to your head."</p>
<p>Loki smiled back at her—a soft, sweet smile—and wrapped an arm around her back, the other under her leg, before hefting her body completely off the floor. Her arms scrambled to cling to his shoulders, a small yelp of surprise escaping her lips. "Other places, darling," he cooed, as they left the bathroom. "Other places."</p>
<hr/>
<p>With only a few short hours until she needed to awaken for her daily routine, Cassandra slept restlessly. Daylight bled through the curtains and poured across the room not long before her alarm was set to blare. Then it did, shrieking its metallic beeping sounds right into her ears. Eyes still tightly shut in defiance of the morning, she felt the mattress dip beneath her, skin brushing her upper arm, and the obnoxious sound stopped—followed by another dip, and a soft groan.</p>
<p>"I almost had it," Loki's voice was thick with grogginess, rolling onto his back against the pillows with a quiet huff.</p>
<p>Cassandra sighed. "It's okay," she pushed herself up by her elbows before reaching a hand up to rub at her eyes. "I have to shower and get to work."</p>
<p>Loki made a disgruntled sound, "Must you?"</p>
<p>"Well, if I knew you were coming, I would've asked for time off—but <em>someone </em>has to be a dramatic bastard and show up at random. Better luck next time."</p>
<p>Despite the exhaustion threatening to mask the lighthearted nature of her jab, she flashed a teasing smile over her shoulder that clashed with her eyes. Loki propped himself up on an elbow, shifting onto his side to lean closer to her, reaching his free hand up to rest against her cheek. "There won't be a next time for quite a while, I think," he spoke quietly. "As long as an extended stay is alright with you."</p>
<p>"Of course it's alright. But, don't you have to go home?" she questioned, bubbles of hope and confusion conflicting in her chest.</p>
<p>Loki's eyes followed his thumb as it danced over her lower lip, brushing along her jaw, and he exhaled tiredly. "Quite honestly, I'm not sure that's what I would call Asgard anymore."</p>
<p>His words felt heavy in the space between them as her head tilted on her shoulder, features simultaneously softening and scrunching together in a mixture of sympathy and curiosity—but Cassandra bit her tongue. It was tied to the revelation of his lineage, she knew. Her heart had carried the same sentiment about her own birthplace—that little house in Iowa—after she finally escaped.</p>
<p>Nothing quite prepares you for such a sudden uprooting. It took place deep within her chest, threatening to collapse the structure in an instant. And no matter how much you claimed to want it prior, it never fails to leave the host with a foreign yet somehow painfully familiar ache. The displacement was jarring for years and, even now, Cassandra wasn't sure just where she fit.</p>
<p>It was as if someone's knee bumped the table and all the pieces fell scattered. She tried to reconnect them, account for them all—but there were some pieces missing she'd been forced to accept were gone forever. "You're certainly quiet for someone that so <em>unabashedly </em>loves picking the heart apart," Loki mused upon her sudden silence, a loose smirk hanging on his lips.</p>
<p>Cassandra exhaled a deep breath and smiled softly. "I have to get to work," she reminded him as she leaned close enough to brush noses. "If you want to talk when I get back, you know I'm happy to listen."</p>
<p>Now she'd thrown the ball back at him so the burden of conversation was not hers. It was the easy way out, but also the most gentle. He hummed, moving his hand to the back of her neck before tipping his head, closing the remaining inch between them to place a kiss to her lips. There was adoration in the action—at a volume which he could never display through words, despite their sincerity—and she could feel it absorbing into her skin, bleeding into her veins until her pulse was forced to speed up under its control.</p>
<p>Cassandra sat upright and he followed her, their mouths opening to deepen the kiss as her hands slid into his hair, gently massaging the scalp with the pads of her fingers. A small, soft moan escaped from his throat and she forced herself to pull away, resting her forehead against his. "<em>Loki</em>," she breathed a whine. "That's not fair."</p>
<p>He huffed a chuckle, grinning from ear to ear, "What is that Midgardian saying about desperate times?"</p>
<p>Her eyes playfully rolled at his sarcasm, and she slid out of bed, still a bit groggy on her feet as she made her way toward the bathroom. This kind of inner conflict was never a problem in visits past. After all, he never stayed quite so long. He couldn't before. It wasn't easy slipping away for long periods of time during the day, much less spending a night—no matter how much he longed for the privilege. But what happened on Asgard, the destruction of the bifrost and the illusion of death, bought him practically infinite time.</p>
<p>Now he could breathe, he could relax. Most importantly, he was free to enjoy her company to the fullest extent, to give her the attention and care he wished to have done already. However, her life did not stop upon his arrival. And although he wished the parts that took her away from him did, he would never ask that of her—he would only blend into her life where he could, and wait in the places he couldn't. It was enough, he knew, to simply exist in her realm.</p>
<p>Loki watched her with a loving gaze as she entered the bathroom, tossing a sweet smile over her shoulder before disappearing completely, and lay back against the pillows. Already, there was a plan formulating in his mind, a plan for how to spend his day. And most of it involved preparing for her return in the evening.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. stargazer lilies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The city felt restless that afternoon. Working with flowers was always a calming task, but even that did not detract from the hollering, heavy-traffic-incited horn blaring, and an overall anxious aura. Cassandra was careful in placing a final lily amongst the flowers she'd picked, thus finishing the arrangement. It was a special order from one of their frequent flyers—a middle-aged man named Phil that came in once a week, every Tuesday, to buy his wife flowers.</p>
<p>Usually, he called the day before and told her exactly what he wanted—the order being different every time—but on this call his request was for whatever Cassandra thought best for his wife's birthday. Birthdays weren't hard to arrange for. Although, sometimes the flowers for the occasion are disliked by certain recipients. The thought spoke doubt into her mind even as she'd finished it.</p>
<p>But she continued on, wiping up any water droplets that may have dripped onto the vase from the stems with a rag. "Good afternoon," her head shot up at the sound of the man's voice, nervousness running along her spine. "What work of art have you together for me today?"</p>
<p>He always wore the same business casual style, sometimes with black sunglasses he only removed once he reached the counter. Today was one of those days. As he took off the shades, Cassandra stood up a little straighter, smiling politely. "Red stargazer lilies, red roses, lavender carnations, violet double lisianthus, purple matsumoto asters, and some greens as a base," she answered, pointing a finger to each flower as she listed their names.</p>
<p>"Wow, you've outdone yourself," he complimented the work as he eyed it, sliding his sunglasses into his pocket.</p>
<p>"Thank you," Cassandra bowed her head in a small nod, fighting a sigh of relief. "Do you think your wife will enjoy these?"</p>
<p>"Absolutely. She loves lilies. How'd you know?"</p>
<p>"You seem like a lily-woman man to me," she replied honestly, giving an unsure shrug. The man chuckled genuinely at her perception and her shoulders relaxed a bit. He was always a rather friendly and polite man when he came into the shop, though that didn't do too much to stop the thrum of her heart in her ears. Cassandra rang up the arrangement and he paid with a credit card—the usual method of payment. Leigh exited the back room as they were finishing up.</p>
<p>She carried two vases with wildly different flower varieties. One was full of blues, purples, and a soft touch of white, the other an explosion of bright yellows, oranges, and reds. Both were equally beautiful—but each their own kind. "Oh, good afternoon, Phil," Leigh greeted their customer with a warm smile. "How are you and the Mrs?"</p>
<p>"Good afternoon. We're doing well, thank you. The wife's going to be especially great after she sees these," he answered, with a head tilt toward the arrangement on the counter.</p>
<p>Leigh placed the vases in her hands onto the counter and stepped behind it, walking toward Phil and Cassandra. She hadn't seen the finished product yet but, now that she had, his satisfaction with the order was no longer a surprise. Leigh had been working at the flower shop longer. However, she knew she didn't have quite the eye for colors that Cassandra did.</p>
<p>Every display arrangement and special order had its own unique combination of blended and odd-ball colors that somehow managed to be tied together, often times complimenting each other more the longer you looked at them. Leigh nodded, humming, "It's so sweet that you do this for her. She's a lucky woman."</p>
<p>"Actually, I'm a very, <em>very </em>lucky man," he shook his head with a small, but noticeable smile that meant something more, something impossible to express. As Cassandra handed him the receipt, he said, "You both do wonderful work here—have a fantastic week."</p>
<p>"Thank you so much. You, too," Leigh smiled.</p>
<p>Cassandra nodded in agreement as he lifted the arrangement from the counter. "Thank you," she spoke a bit quietly, watching as he exited the shop with his purchase. These kinds of days were somewhat common, working in a flower shop. She'd been able to meet and hear stories from people in love, looking to cheer someone up, or pay their respects quite a lot—though it was interactions like this that truly struck a chord.</p>
<p>She wondered, as she plucked a fallen leaf off the countertop, if love was truly common. Was it easier to find than generally thought, or was her job occupation the only reason she encountered it at all? Love was a difficult thing to hold onto in her experience, so it made sense to her why someone like Phil would put extra effort into what he had with his wife.</p>
<p>"So," Leigh spoke suddenly, and Cassandra's head jerked back on her shoulders in a quick glance toward her co-worker. "That guy you left with yesterday was the one you were waiting on, right? How'd it go?"</p>
<p>Leigh picked up the vases and took them to their places on a display near the front window, carefully situating them so their petals didn't collide with any of the other arrangements, as she waited for a reply. Cassandra sighed softly and flicked the leaf she held into the garbage bin.</p>
<p>"Yeah, that was him. He lives out of town—he came back on a business trip—so, I don't know if it's going to last very long," she scrunched up her nose with a small shake of her head. Though, it was a familiar twist in her gut guiding her words.</p>
<p>Leigh snorted. "Oh, come on. You're a catch—he <em>looks </em>fine as hell—as long as the relationship is solid, you can totally make it work."</p>
<p>"I found out the hard way a while ago I'm not into long-distance. He's amazing, but it's just...complicated."</p>
<p>That was understandable. Leigh had gone through her fair share of complicated relationships just within the last couple of years—of course, before she met her current boyfriend. She'd told Cassandra during prior shifts that she was sure he was the one, the perfect fit for her. And, as much as she didn't want it to, it did make Cassandra a bit jealous. Even more so with Loki's return.</p>
<p>It was one thing to pine and hope for someone, but it was something completely different—not unlike an untamed <em>animal</em>—holding onto them. If there was one thing her life experience had taught her, it was that relationships such as this were temporary and not to be wholeheartedly trusted under any circumstances. However, that didn't stop her from praying for a different outcome.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Bicycle leaning over, propped against her hip, Cassandra weakly unlocked the door to her apartment. The exhaustion from a lack of sleep and the emotional toll of the early morning was only added to the usual work-day tiredness, creating a vile mixture that threatened to force her eyes shut with every step up the stairs.</p>
<p>She pushed open the door with one hand, guiding her bike inside with the other. As she reached down for the key, still hanging from the lock, she threw words over her shoulder. "Hey, I'm back," she sighed. But the announcement of her arrival hung in the air without a response. Mentally, she chalked it up to not speaking loud enough in her groggy state.</p>
<p>Then, she finally looked into the apartment—truly looked. Loki stood in the kitchen, lower back against the counter in front of the sink, his arms loosely folded over his chest. On the other side of the island stood Clint, leaning into the countertop on his forearms. Loki's eyes snapped to the front door as it opened, and they shifted between Cassandra and Clint now with caution as the situation settled into her features.</p>
<p>Clint's reaction was a bit delayed, eyes following Loki's line of sight a moment after he'd looked away from the conversation. He settled back onto his heels under Cassandra's stare, pushing off the counter to stand upright as she nudged the front door closed behind her with the end of her shoe. "Hey, Cass," Clint greeted her casually, but ruefully.</p>
<p>He knew not to drop in unannounced. He knew how it tended to frazzle her train of thought. Inwardly, he was prepared to walk out the door without another word if that's what she asked—but stopping by today was a kind of necessity. Cassandra's heart was in her throat as she propped the bicycle against the wall by the door.</p>
<p>"Hey…" she replied, turning toward the kitchen to face them both. Her hands moved as the next words left her lips, fingers contorting into the proper shapes to form words she knew Clint could fully understand, "What brought you by?"</p>
<p>Loki's eyes narrowed softly, watching the movements in confusion as she spoke. He'd never seen her do such a thing before—or anyone, for that matter. It started with 'what' and ended with 'by', indicating to him some kind of coordination, but the symbols didn't appear to translate the words right. It wasn't hard for Cassandra to notice his expression.</p>
<p>She pointed briefly to her right ear, explaining, "He's deaf—he can't hear much. We use hand signals to communicate."</p>
<p>"Then how was he hearing everything I've said?" Loki questioned, a bit more confused.</p>
<p>"I read lips," Clint answered the question calmly, casually, drawing the Asgardian's eyes. Cassandra exhaled and walked toward the island, closer to the conversation. This was not how she wanted a meeting between these two men to happen. She'd thought about it, before Loki returned, and every scenario felt wrong.</p>
<p>No matter how it came to pass, she would have to lie to him—she would have to threaten the relationship she'd genuinely enjoyed rekindling. It didn't feel worth it to attempt an introduction, so she simply didn't talk to Clint about her love life, and he never asked after that first meeting. "Why are you here?" she asked Clint again.</p>
<p>His eyes remained on her, sighing as he settled against the countertop once more. "Look, I'm sorry. I know you asked me to text you first, I was just in the neighborhood so I thought I'd spare my thumbs and swing by," Clint explained, with a small smile. "Do you mind if I talk to you in private for a minute?"</p>
<p>Cassandra shook her head before looking up at Loki. "Can you please hang out in my room for a bit?" she asked. Again, her hands made more symbols, and Loki understood that they weren't truly for him. The thought was endearing—her putting in the effort of learning another form of communication simply to hold a conversation with her big brother.</p>
<p>Then, putting forward an effort to use them to keep him included. Loki stepped away from the counter with a nod, his hands falling to his sides, and he stepped around the island, "Of course." As he slipped into the hall, Cassandra leaned around Clint's back for a better view to make sure the door was shut. When it was sealed behind Loki, Cassandra moved back to her previous position and gave a small nod.</p>
<p>"All clear," she told Clint. "What's up?"</p>
<p>"How was your day?" he grinned patronizingly.</p>
<p>Cassandra huffed a small chuckle, "Exhausting, I had work. What do you <em>really </em>wanna talk about?"</p>
<p>"I don't really know how to tell you this, so I'm just coming out with it. I'm married, Cass."</p>
<p>He spoke slowly, watching her carefully. But her reaction wasn't outward—instead, it was almost entirely inward. There was an odd combination of joy for the future and grief for lost time warring with each other within her chest, the pair of opposite emotions hitting her harder than a palm against a cheek in that moment, and she fell silent.</p>
<p>Clint knew it would be a lot for her to digest, his confession, but he wanted her to know so badly. He wanted her to know <em>him</em>. And ripping the band-aid off was the most humane method he could execute. He continued to watch her as her eyes fell to the countertop and her features became unreadable, and a part of him was worried he'd said too much. At least keeping it a secret meant they were still on speaking terms.</p>
<p>Though, he couldn't tell how this was going to go either way. Finally, after a moment of mutual silence, he dipped his head to catch her eyes. "You okay?" he asked, tentatively.</p>
<p>Cassandra nodded, blinking away her train of thought, and cleared her throat. "Yeah, I just...wow, Clint. Who are they? How long have you guys been married? I wanna know everything," she masked her emotional indecision with enthusiasm. She folded her arms before her on the island, bringing up the subtle wall of a manufactured smile.</p>
<p>"Well, her name is Laura. We met while you were still at school," Clint explained, treading on with one eye open to the changes of her features. "We, uh...we have two kids—Cooper and Lila. Cooper's seven and Lila's four."</p>
<p>"Y-you have <em>children</em>?"</p>
<p>Cassandra's eyes widened, leaning back on her heels in a brief bout of shock, and Clint reached quickly for an escape route. "Yeah—but, Cass, I promise you're not the only one who didn't know. Virtually no one knows any of them exist. It has to be that way because of my job, to keep them safe."</p>
<p>"I understand," she nodded slowly, eyes drifting away again. "It's just so...I didn't even think...you've had a whole life already and all I've done is run away from my problems and work a dead-end job."</p>
<p>"That's why I wanted to tell you. I want you to be a part of that life, Cass. Laura and I want you to come visit, meet the kids, spend some time with us. It'll be good for you—plus, Laura hasn't stopped talking about meeting you since I told her I got in touch with you last week."</p>
<p>Cassandra's eyes flitted back to Clint's face, quickly finding his as they filled with the warmth pooling in her chest. It was one thing to think it. But to hear him say such heartfelt, accepting sentiments out loud made her heart flutter in a way it hadn't for quite some time. The kind of flutter reserved for family.</p>
<p>She opened her mouth to speak, then promptly shut it. What could she say to that? Were there words in the English language to express what she was feeling in that moment? It was too difficult to think about, her heart in her throat, so she didn't—instead, she lurched around the corner of the island and threw herself at him. Her arms found their way around his shoulders and neck, desperate for something to hold onto.</p>
<p>This was all she wanted. As a child, she laid awake on so many endless nights, wondering what her life would be like had she been so accepted. Had her mother not sent her away. Growing into her teens, it was a great source of despair—fighting to keep from projecting her loss onto what she'd found. But the family she'd been given never quite felt like <em>hers</em>.</p>
<p>Now, her hands were shaking, heart swelling as she fought to keep tears at bay. As she pulled away from Clint far enough to see his face without completely letting go, she could feel the corners of her eyes beginning to burn. "I would love that," she told him, a haze overcoming her vision.</p>
<p>Clint smiled warmly down at her, but something within was grabbing at him, tightening his chest. It had been increasingly difficult over the years to ignore the guilt he'd carried since she left their childhood home. There was guilt when she left and he couldn't stop it, guilt when he was married and didn't call, guilt as yet another birthday had gone by unrecognized—guilt, guilt, guilt.</p>
<p>It tainted everything it touched. Moments that should've been happy were internal wars, and he was fighting one again but now it was to keep himself from letting all of it go. It would be too much for her to handle all at once, he knew. But still, his heart ached for the connection it could give.</p>
<p>"I'm gonna be home this weekend," he bit his tongue. "You should come visit, stay the whole weekend. We can catch up, Laura can show you the baby pictures, and the kids can finally meet their Aunt Cassie."</p>
<p>Cassandra nodded with a small chuckle, reaching a hand up to swipe at the line of heat drizzling down her cheek. "Yeah, okay. I'll make sure things are good here, but I don't work so it should be fine. Are you sure you want me around that long?"</p>
<p>Clint's head tilted, his expression speaking before his lips ever moved, "Don't be ridiculous, Cass. You know I do. It's gonna be great, for all of us. Well, except for maybe your boyfriend."</p>
<p>A sound escaped Cassandra that resided somewhere between a snort and a blushed chuckle as she stepped back. It elicited a laugh from the center of Clint's chest, his eyes following her. Cassandra had made it a priority to establish some kind of story to tell when asked by friends early on—an alias, a job, an excuse for his constant absence. Their meeting was the only thing left unchanged.</p>
<p>She'd hoped upon walking in that Loki would have remembered the faux details they'd concocted, and now she had no choice but to assume he did—and that he conveyed them correctly. "Ben will be fine," she shook her head, a smile pulling at her lips. "He's just staying here while he's in town."</p>
<p>"Yeah, he mentioned it. I thought you liked shorter guys. Isn't he a bit...<em>tall</em>?"</p>
<p>Cassandra's eyebrows knitted. "Why do you think I like short guys?"</p>
<p>"Well, last I heard about your love life, you were hanging out with that blue kid," Clint explained, with a shrug. "He wasn't taller than me. Before that—remember that guy in high school-"</p>
<p>"Clint, you're acting awful fatherly right now."</p>
<p>She folded her arms over her chest, raising a brow, and Clint exhaled defeat. Yes, he was critical of her taste in men with the intent to intervene if necessary. But who else would? They hadn't had a father figure to fill that role in a long, long time. Though, he didn't intend to be discovered so quickly.</p>
<p>He held up his hands in surrender, "Yeah, okay. Can you really blame me, though?"</p>
<p>Cassandra shook her head, features relaxing as the sentiment of the gesture settled at the pit of her stomach. She could not blame him for being protective—was that not what brothers were supposed to be? It would be more hurtful, she thought, if he were to act like he didn't care at all.</p>
<p>"I don't wanna take up the rest of your night, so I'll text you and we can figure out logistics for this weekend, okay?"</p>
<p>"Okay," Cassandra nodded. "I'll see you then, I guess."</p>
<p>"See you then."</p>
<p>He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her in a departing hug and she reciprocated immediately, holding on tightly as a squeeze of her eyelids shook loose the remaining water her orbs held. When they parted, she swiped them away. But he noticed them even as a light glisten on her cheek, reflecting the light to spite her smile, and he felt a gentle ache in his chest.</p>
<p>As he walked toward the door, she followed—standing close by to lock it once he'd left. Clint flashed one last warm smile and a small nod before slipping out. In some ways, it was an apology. For the intrusion, for the memories, for the emotions. She smiled back at him just as warmly, a sign that it truly was <em>okay</em>. She would be okay.</p>
<p>Once she turned the locks, she turned on her heels and pattered down the hall to her still-closed bedroom door. As her knuckles rapped on the wood, she called out, "He's gone. You can come out."</p>
<p>It only took a second for the door to open, revealing a charming smile from the Asgardian inside. "But I was just beginning to like this game," he playfully protested. Then, with a tilt of his head, he asked, "How did it go?"</p>
<p>Cassandra gestured for him to follow her as she turned again, walking back toward the kitchen. "It went well," she tossed the words over her shoulder, and Loki didn't hesitate to follow behind her to hear the rest. "He <em>actually </em>lives out of town, and he wants me to visit him this weekend."</p>
<p>"And that is something you want as well?" he inquired.</p>
<p>He came to stand at the edge of the island as Cassandra retrieved the empty teapot from the stove. "Yeah, I do," she nodded, before turning on the sink. A stream of water rushed into the teapot as she held it over the basin. She turned it off as it reached the right level and immediately placed it on the stove top.</p>
<p>"Then you must go," Loki said, as he took steps toward the stove. "I'm sure I can find <em>something </em>to do around here for three days. Maybe organize that mess of a book shelf-"</p>
<p>"<em>Hey</em>!"</p>
<p>Her hand instinctively flung out, connecting with his arm in a playful swat, and it only caused the mischievous god to grin. "I'm sorry, darling, but when was the last time you tidied up over there? That corner looks like it hasn't been touched in ages," he continued with a more lighthearted, teasing tone.</p>
<p>Cassandra's eyes narrowed up at him in jest, "I was going to get to it. Eventually."</p>
<p>"Well, allow me to lend my services."</p>
<p>He stood in front of her beside the stove, and she turned to face him fully, snaking her arms around his torso to lean into his chest. "Mm hm. And what's that gonna cost me?" she asked, a brow quirked. Loki pretended to think about it as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her snugly.</p>
<p>"You have to teach me what those hand gestures mean," he answered.</p>
<p>Cassandra's eyebrows rose gently on her forehead. She was pleasantly surprised by the condition, as it was near the last thing she expected to hear. It would take longer than they had together, she knew, to truly teach him how to use sign language. However, a deviously sweet thought entered her mind, high on the emotions of the conversation prior—and she smiled.</p>
<p>"Okay, I think we can do that," she gave a nod. "Want to learn something right now?"</p>
<p>He chuckled a little, but eagerly nodded, "Alright."</p>
<p>Cassandra took a step back and Loki mirrored her with a subtle sarcasm in his demeanor that caused her to fight a chuckle. "Just do what I do. One finger toward your chest," she aimed an index finger toward her chest as she spoke, and he did the same. "Then, make an X with your arms."</p>
<p>Her hands folded into fists and she crossed her arms, marking an X over her chest. Loki followed along easily with the simple tutorial. Secretly, he'd thought it would be more difficult. Though, Cassandra had chosen this first lesson for a reason other than its simplicity—a reason she would only reveal once they were done.</p>
<p>"Finally, a finger toward whoever you're talking to," she said, pointing her same index finger now toward him, and his was aimed toward her.</p>
<p>He tilted his head. "And what does that mean?"</p>
<p>She let her hands fall to her sides as the smile suddenly faltered, threatening to slip from her face altogether from the force of the anxiety rush, a wave of nerves traveling in a cold temperature down her spine. But the ache in the left side of her chest was stronger, warmer, and she was in too deep not to continue. So, she inhaled through her nose and spoke as calmly as possible.</p>
<p>"I love you."</p>
<p>There was a split second, a fleeting moment where his face remained unchanged by the news. But then, it hit him like a boot to the gut, realization forcing its way in with a battering ram and making itself at home at the hearth of his chest. His lashes dusted his skin as he blinked quickly, shifting his weight to his heels. Something was stuck in his throat—an emotion? A word? He couldn't tell, but it wouldn't move.</p>
<p>Surely, she didn't mean it. It was certainly just another game, an innocently done but cruel joke meant to tease him. However, the longer he stared into the depths of blue in her irises, the longer that realization trespassed, turning into something thick that kept him from swallowing.</p>
<p>Cassandra waited patiently for a reply, any kind of response, but it was getting harder as the seconds ticked by—her heart thrumming loudly in her ears as fear entered her mind. She'd gone too far. She'd become far too comfortable sharing and now she'd shared something much better kept to herself, a once harmless secret that now mutated into a sharp knife before her eyes.</p>
<p>"I'm- I'm sorry. I'm so sorry-" she stumbled over herself, voice shaking as the words tumbled from her lips, and her eyes fell to the kitchen tile.</p>
<p>"I love you," he blurted, all eight letters rocketing up from his throat as they finally dislodged. Cassandra's eyes shot up, finding his quickly, only to see they were just as surprised as hers. But something flashed through in a gentle shimmer and his features softened, melting on his face as his head tilted, "I love you, Cassandra."</p>
<p>The kind warmth of relief filled her chest and she lurched forward the step she'd taken back, extending fully onto her toes as her hands reached for his face, desperate to bring him closer. Instinctively, he leaned down to meet her, catching her lips between his in a deep, open-mouthed kiss. His arms encircled her, pulling her against his chest. Right there, Loki decided, was where she belonged.</p>
<p>Tucked in his arms, lips tangled, hearts on fire. He bent to reach the backs of her legs and she needed no other prompting, hopping up and hooking her legs around his hips—a familiar position that somehow felt entirely new, clinging to him as her skin erupted in bumps. Holding her easily, he stepped to the side and placed her atop the island counter.</p>
<p>Cassandra's hands moved to his cheekbones, the sharp line of his jaw, before they disappeared into his inky locks as his fingers dug into her hips through the denim of her jeans—clawing her closer against his body. Their chests remained touching, her legs keeping his hips from escaping hers, yet still it felt too far.</p>
<p>The need for closeness was becoming insatiable. It was then that a loud, sharp whistle pierced the bubble of passion and lust surrounding them. Loki simply reached out a hand and gave it a quick wave, and the teapot shifted spaces, moving to the back burner in a haze of gold as the stove was switched off. Cassandra smiled against the Asgardian's lips as he hefted her up once more, her arms wrapping around his neck as he moved toward the hallway.</p>
<p>Her stomach dropped into her toes, the familiar creaks of the flooring reaching her ears, signalling their fast approach to her bedroom. Loki fumbled with the door, giving it a push to move it out of his way before walking inside, and the wood bumped the wall with a thud—but the sound barely registered. He was careful but urgent in lowering her onto the bed, crawling onto the mattress to hover above her.</p>
<p>Their lips traded lustful kisses while their hands worked hastily to remove their shirts, pants, and undergarments, tossing each item away in a blind arc toward the floor. It was the same pattern they'd followed many times before. They had both become creatures of habit when the moment struck. Though, something about this evening felt different. It felt new, and warm, and <em>loving</em> at volumes never reached.</p>
<p>This time, there was an intensity to the rush along Cassandra's spine as he entered her, swallowing her sinful sounds with a deep kiss. She moved her legs around him, sinking him in deeper, and her fingers gripped tight to his hair as she could feel every extra piece. Pleasure washed over her body in gentle waves, the love and care in each kiss forming a rocky coastline they crashed against before retreating into the depths of her gut.</p>
<p>Loki's hips brushed hers as they thrusted slowly, deeply into her. Every word he could've said, every feeling he desired to convey—they caught in his throat. He had no choice but to pour it all into the way he kissed her, touched her, and hope beyond reason that she could feel it. It was true that he loved her. The confession might have been the most honest thing he'd ever told her.</p>
<p>Though, he never anticipated saying such a thing out loud. Surely, she knew. She had to have known, with the way he looked at her, how his smile was only genuine for her, all the things he had done to care for her and brighten her spirits. All the ways he memorized her, her likes and dislikes, and remembered every story utterly softly at night. And, to some extent, she did.</p>
<p>These things were all noticeable, but to Cassandra they were unacceptable as <em>love</em>. The only way she could allow them was to block out the notion. People she loved never stayed in her life very long—to accept that her feelings for him, and his feelings for her, were love would be to accept the relationship's impending doom. But this didn't feel like an ending. It felt like a <em>beginning</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. most ardently</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Loki's fingers slid gently through Cassandra's hair as her head lay on his chest. He wasn't entirely sure just how long he'd been awake, but it was hard to sleep with the events of the night before still so raw in his mind. It elicited so many thoughts he hadn't considered prior. Those thoughts swirled around his mind like a storm, even as the calming scent of his beloved filled his veins with an unparalleled peace.</p>
<p>His confession proved not only to his lover, but to himself that his attachment to her was genuine. But what was he to do with that information? Surely, he couldn't stay here forever, could he? Cassandra was a mutant, but she was mortal—and she would eventually die of the same short lifespan as everyone else on this planet. What was he to do then?</p>
<p>That particular thought sent a dull pain through the left side of his chest, and his arm tightened around her sleeping frame. He wouldn't think of it now, he decided, but he would need to acknowledge it sooner or later. It was then that she stirred, and his blue eyes drifted down to her fluttering eyelids. "Good morning," she whispered, the smooth nature of her voice drenched in textured grogginess.</p>
<p>He smiled softly, "Good morning, my love."</p>
<p>"Have you just been laying there all morning?"</p>
<p>"How could I leave? There's no better sight in this dingy city than this," he told her, brushing a thumb along her cheek bone. "I'm certain you're the most beautiful Midgardian I've ever seen."</p>
<p>A small bubbling of chuckles escaped Cassandra as she reached up a hand to rub at her eyes, the corners of her lips tugging upward into a smile. She knew for a fact that the compliment had a high probability of being false but her cheeks dusted a gentle rose color in spite of it.</p>
<p>"That's not fair—you're the only Asgardian I've ever met."</p>
<p>Loki huffed a soft chuckle, "Yes, I suppose you'd need something to compare me to."</p>
<p>"Well, based on what you've <em>told </em>me about Asgardians-" Cassandra pushed herself up into a sitting position, giving into a small stretch demanded by her arm muscles. "-I don't think I'd like a single one of them."</p>
<p>He scrunched up his nose with a brief narrow of his eyes, sliding his arms around her torso to tug her chest against his back as he sat up as well, "Oh no—you wouldn't fit in there at all. Although, I could see you falling into the queen's good graces rather easily."</p>
<p>Cassandra turned, leaning back to halfway drape herself over his lap, and looked up at her lover with a raised brow and crooked smile. "Really? Why is that?"</p>
<p>The corners of his lips pulled up to match the sparkle of adoration in his eyes as he gazed down at her. He reached up a hand, his palm cupping her jaw as his thumb gently brushed over the definition of her cheekbone. These moments were the ones most difficult not to become utterly lost in the sentimentality of it all. It was hard for him to imagine someone resting their eyes upon her and not seeing what he saw.</p>
<p>Yes, she put up a thick wall when in public—a safety mechanism learned from years worth of unhealed wounds, each transgression stacked upon the next until they towered over her small form. But that was not <em>her</em>. She was not Claire Brown. She was <em>Cassandra</em>. She was a wrinkled nose and childishly bright smile, radiated warmth felt across the room like a ray of sunlight through the drapes, the bare and open but unmistakably hopeful feeling of an empty room freshly painted.</p>
<p>If there was one person on Asgard that at least retained some part of his heart, it was his mother—the only member of his adopted family he couldn't bring himself to rename. <em>Frigga</em>. Despite her siding with Odin and Thor with many issues, she was the only one of them all that took the time to bond with him. That gave him the illusion of selfless care. It didn't feel like it used to, or like it should, but he did love her.</p>
<p>Knowing what he did of both these women, he wondered, how could they not at the very least get along? Surely, Frigga would see through her walls, as she'd seen through Loki's most of his life. Finally, he answered her, "Well, I'd like to think my mother a sensible woman. She would take one look at you and see you're too good for that prison of a palace. Too kind, too caring, too smart...too beautiful. She would see what I see every time <em>I </em>look at you."</p>
<p>Cassandra's features softened as the words slipped through her rib cage, flooding the left side of her chest, causing the already overworked organ inside to swell. "I love you, Loki," she whispered—but she wanted to scream it.</p>
<p>"And I love you," his voice was also soft, quiet in the small space between them. The second use of the phrase felt lighter, easier, though it still threatened to halt itself within his throat. "Most ardently."</p>
<p>An echo of a smirk ghosted his lips and Cassandra exhaled heavily, gut teeming with a bout of self-directed annoyance. "I never should've let you watch that."</p>
<p>"<em>Let</em> me? You practically <em>forced </em>me to sit through it all."</p>
<p>"Shut <em>up</em>."</p>
<p>A chuckle bubbled up from Cassandra's chest as she pushed herself up on an elbow. Her hand shot up, moving quickly to the back of his neck, hastily but gently pulling to reach the extra inches her elbow did not allow. Their upturned lips met suddenly, but melted into each other just as soon.</p>
<p>Loki's tongue brushed against her lower lip as the urge to taste her compelled him and she opened her mouth, allowing him to slip inside as he pleased. A rogue shiver ran down her spine, fingers curling into his hair and giving a gentle tug. The Asgardian moaned softly as he kissed her deeper, and his hand began to travel from her cheek down the front of her torso, fingertips dancing over her skin.</p>
<p>They didn't stop until the region of her waist. He gave her hip a small squeeze, his thumb rubbing a circle just above it—and Cassandra found herself readjusting, moving in her position to shift her legs apart in the hopes he would continue south. Sure enough, he didn't stop there. His hand moved downward, fingers guiding his palm over her folds, and her hips involuntarily squirmed.</p>
<p>A whiny sound crawled up her throat and fell into his mouth, pulling at a sensitive string tightening in his gut. It was hard to describe the things they did to him, the sounds she made. When she was truly lost in the moment and her lust was at its unbridled peak, the sinful sounds of pleasure from her went straight to his pelvis, only fueling his selfless desire to make her <em>feel</em>.</p>
<p>Loki slid a finger into her slick depths—her toes curled as she fought to keep still, her lips moving from his only to suck in a strangled gasp. She clung to him, her arm of support now slung around the backs of his shoulders, and she couldn't help tugging on his hair yet again. This time wasn't so gentle. But he secretly desired it, the pinpricks of pain only she could inflict.</p>
<p>He grunted, a deep sound in her ear, as he moved his lips to her jaw and neck. Peppering kisses across her skin, he slowly began to pump his finger. The movements alone were pleasurable, though there was an added otherworldly bliss in the love behind them—in the heart hers had grown so fond of. And it was the last thing she expected upon meeting him.</p>
<p>That was the oddest part, she thought. Despite her diversity of knowledge on bizarre backgrounds—given the stories she'd heard from fellow mutants—meeting someone who claimed to be from another <em>realm </em>felt crazy. And that was her least favorite word. But, there was no other way to properly describe it. She had to laugh at herself, though, knowing that mind reading and shape shifting somehow sounded more realistic to her than another realm.</p>
<p>Cassandra chose her questions carefully. No matter what she asked, she knew she might sound judgmentally skeptical. However, it wasn't hard to believe his story the longer he existed in her life. And, finally, he showed her his magic—an act that, in turn, earned him a look at her own. She decided then that even if he wasn't telling the truth, she would keep him as a friend as long as she could.</p>
<p>There was no denying his attractiveness—he was naturally charming, alluring, with something a little too magnetic in those blue irises. His eyes were one of the first things she noticed. Loki never shied away from her, occasionally, brazen banter and it often shifted into something flirtatious, a place they fit in so easily Cassandra hardly possessed the will power to leave.</p>
<p>Now, as her hips thrusted desperately into his hand, their lips tangled again—and it felt like there was no wonder how they ended up here. Moans, grunts, and whimpers were the only sounds either could manage, but they were all they needed. Finally, Loki held her as she fell apart, coating his fingers as her chest heaved to keep up with the rush of ecstasy flooding her body.</p>
<p>It made sense now, being here and feeling these things. It was natural, expected, <em>encouraged</em>. Although the idea of love still took the shape of a ghastly creature in her mind, tucked deep inside a closet sealed shut, Cassandra refused to let it go—no matter the circumstance. But, even still, the threat lingered.</p>
<hr/>
<p>She took her time, diligently placing each folded item of clothing in its place inside her duffel bag. There was an order to every madness—and hers was found in sorting her shirts and pants on the left, undergarments and socks on my right, toiletries dead center. After traveling light for so many years, Cassandra didn't have much to show for a wardrobe.</p>
<p>There were her work clothes and a small handful of oversized t-shirts, two sweaters kept around only for comfort, and three pairs of jeans that barely fit—either too small or too large, sometimes all at once. But that was it. Of course, she owned pairs of socks and underwear and bought the annual once-a-year-discounted-bra. Though, every item of clothing she did own was nondescript and void of any personality.</p>
<p>These things were for use, not for pleasure. She tried to take into account the kind of things she would need to wear for her weekend trip to Clint's house. Just in case, she purchased a new pair of denim shorts and some boots, both from the new-to-you store three blocks from her apartment. She wore her only pair of sneakers, the only jeans that fit her—though their length forced her to roll them up at the ankles—and a t-shirt beneath her coat.</p>
<p>It was the most practical outfit for meeting her sister-in-law, niece, and nephew she could think of. But she was doing far too much thinking already. Her fingers jittered as she zipped up the half-full bag and pulled the strap onto her shoulder, before carrying it out of the bedroom with her. It rubbed against her hip, the weight reminding her every step just where she was going, and she struggled to swallow.</p>
<p>Reconnecting with Clint was a startling venture, but she already knew him. Cassandra had never met these people before. Would they like her? Despise her? What had Clint told them about her? Did they know what she was? All these things swirled around her head so fast it was beginning to spin on her shoulders.</p>
<p>That was when a knock sounded, knuckles rapping on the front door. "Cass, it's me," Clint's voice was muffled from the other side of the wood. Instinctively, her feet sped up, along with her pulse. Loki stood up from the couch the second Clint knocked, and he strode across the small living space to answer it. As he pulled the door open, more and more of Clint's face was revealed, and the archer found himself shifting his eyes upward to meet Loki's.</p>
<p>"Hey, man," Clint nodded once. "Got fun plans for the weekend?"</p>
<p>Loki stepped back, pulling the door open with a hand gesture, ushering Clint inside. "Just a lot of cleaning," the Asgardian answered. A small smile threatened to show through his otherwise neutral expression as a thought entered his mind, reminding him of the conversation he'd referenced. Of the evening he professed his love.</p>
<p>Clint crossed over the threshold and spotted Cassandra as she shuffled quickly toward them. There was something different in his eyes this time as he smiled at her. Something genuinely happy. It put the monstrous storm of thoughts in her mind at ease enough to take a deep breath. "You got everything you need?" he asked, jutting his chin at the duffel hanging from her shoulder.</p>
<p>Cassandra readjusted the strap with a nod, coming to stand a foot or two in front of him, "Yeah. Any special gear I need that you forgot to mention? You know, while I can still get it?"</p>
<p>"No, regular clothes are fine," he huffed a chuckle and shook his head, before taking a step back. "Ready, then?"</p>
<p>She nodded again with a short hum and turned to Loki. "Don't forget about the plants by the window," she reminded, with a brief extension of a finger toward the kitchen. "Oh, and the snake plant in the bathroom."</p>
<p>With a light sigh, Loki took her hands in his, thumbs rubbing over her knuckles soothingly. "You needn't worry, my love. Everything will be taken care of in your absence. Now, go—enjoy yourself. You deserve this," he replied. He lifted her hands and bent forward, then, and kissed them both—and Cassandra was sure something inside her truly melted. She took a step forward and pushed up on her toes, meeting him halfway for a kiss on the lips before he'd truly stood upright.</p>
<p>It was customary for a sibling to act repulsed by the displays of affection, and most times they truly were, but Clint couldn't bring himself to put forth the effort to discourage it. How often in his life had he seen his sister genuinely happy? He tried to think of the last time he'd seen it with his own eyes. The closest memory he could find was a fragment, a picture in his head of a smiling, beaming toddler. That was it. Given their upbringing, it wasn't nearly as surprising as it should have been.</p>
<p>Once they'd said their goodbyes, Clint and Cassandra left the apartment. It felt open and vulnerable, but exhilarating following him up the stairs, passing the highest floors of the building. They traveled all the way to the roof. "We really have to fly?" Cassandra questioned, walking a little faster to tap his shoulder, gaining his attention. "I know it's faster, but...gravity and I aren't exactly on speaking terms."</p>
<p>Clint barked a laugh as he walked up the ramp at the mouth of the quinjet. The plane sat parked near the center of the roof, its wings and nose just barely fitting comfortably within the confines. Cassandra had flown in a similar craft, though a bit bigger, and even piloted it herself once. The act of flying by itself had always colored her a specific shade of anxious.</p>
<p>Over time, she learned to relax more, to bear it a bit more easily. However, all it took was one crash to set her back further than where she had started. "Sorry, it's the safest way to get there. More discreet," Clint answered. A bit cautiously, Cassandra stepped up the ramp into the plane. The interior brought back many memories. Some good, some bad—but all reminded her of the night Logan knocked on her door.</p>
<p>It still plagued her, watching Clint start up the craft and ready it for takeoff. What had Xavier chosen not to tell her? What information was so pressing? Who did Logan fight—and most likely, kill? She settled into a seat with a sigh. The quinjet's ramp lifted up, closing the bay, and Clint twisted in his seat at the front of the ship to see her. "All good?"</p>
<p>Cassandra nodded and held up a thumb. Clint faced the front once more and the jet lifted from the roof. It swayed gently, the familiar half-weightlessness she'd felt so many times before crawling up her legs in the form of anxious bumps. Her hands darted out at her sides, palms pressing desperately into the seats beside her in an effort to keep steady, the contents of her stomach sloshing just enough to send a jolt of worry to her chest.</p>
<p>But it wasn't so much sick from the movement—more so the idea of what the movement could mean. The craft steadied, flying smoothly as they traveled quickly over the city in a fairly straight line, and her shoulders relaxed. Though, she remained in her seat and her hands did not move from their places. Not for several more miles.</p>
<p>After a while of silence, Clint set the craft to autopilot and turned his chair, swiveling to face his sister in the cargo area. The first thing he noticed was her shaken demeanor. There was a story behind it, he knew. There had to be. And it was another thing to add to his mental list, another reason why he despised that godforsaken school—if you could even call it that.</p>
<p>He cleared his throat and her eyes shifted up from the floor. "Do you miss that place? I mean, we haven't talked about those years, so I don't know the specifics. But it <em>looks </em>like it didn't actually help."</p>
<p>Cassandra was surprised by the nature of the question. She leaned back into her seat and pried her hands off the cushions only to sign her answer. "I miss the people more than the place," she replied, honestly. "I learned a lot about myself there. Some stuff I wish I didn't. But I needed more than they could give me."</p>
<p>"You know, I saw you on the news a couple times."</p>
<p>Cassandra's face fell. Of course he did. Clint, and the rest of America. Realistically, most of the world probably saw. It's not every day that the Golden Gate Bridge gets rerouted. However, she knew the person he saw did not inhabit her body anymore. That person was callous and cold and lead by anger. Her eyes fell to the floor again, the shame filling her chest weighing them down too much to keep them level.</p>
<p>"It scared the hell out of me, Cass," Clint continued, leaning forward as his forearms rested atop his knees. "I come into work and there you are, my baby sister, all over every news station. With the fucking <em>military </em>aiming right at you. Yeah, they wanted the other guy, too—but you were <em>right there</em>."</p>
<p>Slowly, she nodded, exhaling a shaky breath. It was going to happen sooner or later, she knew, and she would have to come clean—not only to Clint, but to herself. And the idea of the latter was much, much more intimidating. Her eyes lifted after a short moment, but they did not meet his. They drifted to the left, straight ahead, but not toward him. They couldn't.</p>
<p>"It seemed like every day there was some senator trying to rally support for another anti-mutant agenda, and they were <em>winning</em>. It was only a matter of time before the 'cure' was mandatory. I shouldn't have listened to the wrong people, but I did, and I ended up fighting for the wrong team. I still stand by the message. But the method was too much," she explained slowly, hands moving to shape every word.</p>
<p>Clint knew exactly what she was talking about. He'd seen that, too—every couple of days, another person in power would condemn the existence of mutants. And every time, he thought of Cassandra. Her abilities could be dangerous, sure, but that was <em>his sister</em>. It was like watching a horse race. The adrenaline was high, he'd placed his bet on a horse doing the right thing, but his gut twisted every time another horse edged ahead.</p>
<p>It was extremely difficult to let go of something you couldn't control that was also so personal. "Look, I only brought this up because...I wanted you to know I was thinking about you. No matter how far away I was, I kept an eye on things," Clint explained, calmly, as he sat upright. "I know you went through a lot you shouldn't have had to. And if you ever wanna talk about it, I'm here. Always have been. Always will be."</p>
<p>"Where were you when Barney needed you?"</p>
<p>Clint's eyes narrowed, squinting as he asked himself—<em>did her hands truly make that sign?</em> Even from feet away, he noticed their slight tremble, and he sighed. "Cass...that's not fair."</p>
<p>No, it wasn't. It was asking too much too soon. Cassandra knew this, yet her lips still moved, and she still voiced a question that remained stuck in her throat for many years. She'd been forced to swallow, harbor it in her chest as it festered. Bleeding resentment into her veins. It had been there for so long and now it was out, though she wasn't quite sure that was a good thing.</p>
<p>"He was getting bad again, and I called you," her eyes finally met his, but they weren't as angered as her words allowed him to expect. They were <em>hurt</em>. "I couldn't get through to him anymore and you hung up on me."</p>
<p>"Last time I saw Barney, we got into it. He put his fist through a wall and left. What was I supposed to do?"</p>
<p>"Not leave your sixteen-year-old sister to make sure your brother doesn't kill himself, would be my guess."</p>
<p>With a heavy exhale, Clint sat back, scrubbing a hand over his face. Thanks to their father, each of them was saddled with demons that didn't belong to them. Barney was filled with rage, but Cassandra knew the vast majority of that anger was simply the scab over a much larger wound. It had been left unchecked since the death of their parents—since they were forced to grow up too young.</p>
<p>Whatever Clint took from his childhood was hidden well, his time with S.H.I.E.L.D. giving him the training to bury it deep enough, the lengthy missions allowing him to ignore whatever was left. He only felt any of it, now, when looking at his siblings. Or, the shells they've each become. To confront what was in his brother was to confront what was in himself.</p>
<p>It was the struggle they all faced, and all three of them went their own ways many years ago to avoid it. Clint knew bringing Cassandra back into his life would do this. Though, that knowledge didn't prepare him for a conversation like this. "I'm sorry, Cass," he apologized, voice much quieter now. "I shouldn't have left you to deal with that by yourself. You were just a kid. Hell, you still are."</p>
<p>Cassandra's eyebrow quirked, "I'm twenty-four."</p>
<p>"Before I came to your apartment, the last time I saw you in person—you were thirteen. I think, maybe, you'll always look like that to me. Not sure if that's a trauma thing or a big brother thing," Clint shrugged.</p>
<p>She stood then, and took steps toward him. Clint stood as she approached, wrapping his arms tightly around her torso as hers wound around his neck, and his muscles relaxed into the embrace. He wanted her to know what he was thinking, to hook his brain up to a projector and show it to her so clearly she had no choice but to understand. Because he knew, no matter how much they bonded, there would always be things he couldn't bring himself to say.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The quinjet landed gracefully in the field beside a quaint farmhouse. It sat in a clearing amongst thick trees, positioned perfectly to soak up the morning and afternoon sun. Cassandra stood from her seat inside the craft and pulled her duffel onto her shoulder. Clint hopped up from his pilot's chair and walked quickly to the opening bay door, his steps lightened with a returned excitement.</p>
<p>"Okay- I just wanna warn you, once the kids warm up to you, they can get a little rambunctious," he said, turning to see his sister.</p>
<p>Cassandra smiled a little, chuckling as she followed him to the ramp. She opened her mouth to speak and promptly shut it. Blue eyes darting out, they found a figure standing on the porch—a woman with brown hair, smiling at the both of them. It had to be Laura. Once again, Cassandra felt anxiety bubbling up from her gut.</p>
<p>Clint spotted his wife waiting for them on the porch and held his hand up to wave. She waved back, all smiles in her own kind of excitement. When he looked back to Cassandra, he noticed a kind of deer-in-headlights vacancy to her eyes. "You okay?" he asked her, placing a hand on her shoulder.</p>
<p>She cleared her throat and nodded, pulling her eyes away from the porch to look up at him. "Yeah, I just...does she know what I am?"</p>
<p>"'<em>What'</em>? No, she knows <em>who </em>you are," Clint's voice was firm, sure, but gentle. "And she's really excited to finally meet you. They all are. I'll be right here with you the whole time, okay? If you need a breather, just squeeze my hand."</p>
<p>His hand slipped into hers, holding it securely, and Cassandra nodded again. It seemed to be the only thing she could do in her fear. Together, they descended the ramp and began the short walk to the porch. Laura shuffled back from the steps as they approached them to give space to climb them, but she found Cassandra's eyes and gave a warm smile. "Hi, it's so nice to meet you," she practically beamed, as the pair reached the top. "I'm Laura."</p>
<p>She held out her hand. Cassandra removed her hand from her duffel strap to reach out and shake it, keeping her grip on Clint's. "It's nice to meet you, too. I'm Cass," she introduced herself. Though, neither woman truly needed to.</p>
<p>"Well, um, welcome to our home. Please make yourself comfortable anywhere you like, and if you need anything don't hesitate to let us know. Oh- would you like some tea? Clint said you were a tea drinker so I made sure there was plenty of hot water when you got here," Laura rambled in her politeness.</p>
<p>Cassandra's eyes flitted up to Clint's, only to find a small grin already on his lips. He'd only been in her kitchen twice, but each time there was a kettle on the stove, sitting idly as it waited to be used. Of course he would take notice of it. She exhaled and looked to Laura with a calm smile. "Sure, that would be nice. Thank you," she accepted the offer with a small nod.</p>
<p>Laura moved quickly to the front entrance, then, pulling open the screen door. Clint stepped aside to hold it open and she continued inside. Cassandra let her hand slide free from his, and gave him a sure look as she, too, entered the house. <em>So far so good</em>. The nerves were less intense. Though, she didn't let her guard down <em>all </em>the way—after all, she hadn't met the children yet.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. abracadabra</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Laura treaded quickly into the kitchen, path leading straight to the stove, and Cassandra was not far behind. Clint closed the front door after taking a step inside and stood still as his eyes scanned the living area and front half of the kitchen. The children were nowhere to be seen.</p>
<p>They had sat both Cooper and Lila down nights prior, breaking the news to them that they had an aunt coming to visit the coming weekend. Clint explained that this aunt was different from Auntie Nat. Though, there was only so much preparing you could do. So, Clint left his wife and sister to converse and went to find the kids, in an effort to give one last talk—an etiquette reminder.</p>
<p>Laura poured water into a ceramic mug on the counter, a single stream of heat dancing toward the ceiling. "I wasn't sure what kind you'd like, so I got whatever the store had," her voice was apologetic, offering a nervous-sounding chuckle. "There's earl grey, chamomile, jasmine, and I think I got some kind of citrus flavor."</p>
<p>Cassandra smiled politely, sitting in a chair at the dining table a few feet away, "Jasmine's fine. But I'm not picky."</p>
<p>"Oh, alright. So, what do <em>you </em>do for a living?"</p>
<p>Laura opened a jasmine tea packet and dropped the bag of crushed leaves into the steaming mug, then carried the mug across the kitchen. She held it out to Cassandra as she answered. "I'm a florist," she replied, taking the mug with a nod of thanks.</p>
<p>"Really? Is that something you always planned on doing or did things just happen that way?" Laura inquired. She pulled out an adjacent chair and lowered herself into it. There was another mug there, its contents cool now from sitting untouched for too long, but she didn't mind.</p>
<p>"Um, it just happened," Cassandra shrugged one shoulder. "I've always enjoyed working with flowers, but I didn't think I would make a career out of it."</p>
<p>Laura nodded thoughtfully and took a sip from her mug. As she lifted it to her lips, Cassandra's eyes fell to her own, steam still streaming up from the liquid. She reached out a hand and looped the tea bag's string around her index finger, then tugged on it gently to force the tea to mix and reveal it's true color.</p>
<p>It was calm, sitting there, but it also felt incredibly out of place. As though she'd gone to the home of a somewhat estranged relative. They were polite and cordial, however there was only so much small talk to be had before it ran out, leaving the pair in a quiet moment of awkwardness.</p>
<p>Although, Cassandra appeared to be the only one who felt awkward about it. Laura was confident, extroverted, and she clearly wanted to show she was interested in Cassandra as a person. She was Cassandra's opposite. Knowing that added an ounce of anxiety to her gut, as she continued to bob the tea bag inside her mug.</p>
<p>It was then that rushed footsteps sounded on the wooden stairs, but they were light—the children, she knew. Her heart began to beat a little fast as she twisted quickly in her chair, turning just in time to see Clint walk into the living area with a young boy at his side and an even younger little girl in his arms.</p>
<p>The boy—Cooper, as she remembered—looked almost like a smaller version of his father. Cassandra's head tilted ever so slightly, the sweet thought warming her chest. "Cass, these are the kids-" Clint said, glancing down to make sure Cooper was still at his side. "-Cooper, and Lila. Guys, this is Cassandra."</p>
<p>"You're Aunt Cassie?" Cooper asked, a bit timid as he took slow steps into the kitchen.</p>
<p>Cassandra nodded and gave a small smile, "Yeah, that's me. It's so nice to finally meet you."</p>
<p>"Dad said you have superpowers. Is that true?"</p>
<p>Cooper's wording forced a chuckle to bubble out of Cassandra's throat. Her abilities hadn't been called superpowers. They were just that—<em>abilities</em>. Most people called them a sickness, or a curse, and some even said they were a punishment for sin. But she decided then that she liked this description best.</p>
<p>"Oh, honey-" Laura quickly set down her mug.</p>
<p>"It's okay," Cassandra interrupted, with a shake of her head. It earned a surprised look from Laura, and she could feel Clint's eyes on her, but Cassandra only looked at Cooper. "That's right. Wanna see a magic trick?"</p>
<p>"What kind of trick?" Cooper was intrigued, coming even closer.</p>
<p>Clint carried Lila to the kitchen before setting her down on her feet on the tile, and his eyes moved to Laura's in a quick expression of disguised worry. He knew Cassandra wouldn't do anything to hurt either of the kids. Clint was only worried the kids might react in a negative way, even going so far as to becoming <em>afraid</em>.</p>
<p>Though, Cooper was excited, like a dog with its ears pricked up at the sight of a bone as Cassandra stood from her chair. "I'm gonna disappear," she told the boy. "But you have to say the magic word. Know what that is?"</p>
<p>He nodded once, beaming, "Abracadabra."</p>
<p>The second the word had left the child's mouth, Cassandra's form vanished in a sudden cloud of purple smoke. It dissipated just as fast as it had materialized. Laura blinked and looked up at Clint but he was grinning. He could feel Cassandra at his back, standing behind him. Cooper walked through the remainder of faint purple in the air, across the space Cassandra had just been standing, with wide eyes and a slack jaw.</p>
<p>"Where is she?" Lila asked, walking toward her brother.</p>
<p>Cooper looked quickly between his parents, "Where did she go?"</p>
<p>Cassandra fought a genuine smile despite the gentle tremble of her hands. For a brief moment, it felt like being at the school—but one of the only <em>good</em> parts. The children played pranks on each other all the time, though usually the tricks were done within the same group every time.</p>
<p>They played individual pranks—pranking each other in week-long wars across the estate—and sometimes even pranked others together, as a group. Cassandra had used the mischief to cope in the beginning of her stay. But, then, she continued because of the friends she'd made.</p>
<p>Now, she stood two steps behind Clint at the start of the kitchen, waiting. After a moment, she moved out from her hiding place in a wide, sweeping step and held out her arms at her sides. "Ta-da!"</p>
<p>Cooper and Lila startled, Lila's small frame jolting from a gasp, but the surprise turned quickly into awe. Then, even further—<em>excitement</em>. Something youthful within Cassandra's chest was also excited. Though, it ran much deeper than that. It wasn't so much the ideal reception of her 'trick' as it was the thought of acceptance.</p>
<p>Clint smiled, seeing the overly positive reaction from the kids. Cooper was begging Cassandra to do it again and Lila had begun clapping with the speed and accuracy of a hyper toddler. "Again?" Cassandra asked, looking down at Cooper.</p>
<p>"Yeah! Do it again, pleeeeease!" he bounced on his feet.</p>
<p>Cassandra found herself laughing again—that unplanned, uncontrolled laugh. But she agreed, giving into his demands. "Okay, one more. But you have to say the word again."</p>
<p>Cooper all but shouted, "Abracadabra!"</p>
<p>And she disappeared a second time, the purple smoke a brief haze in the air where she once stood. Silence fell over the children as they began to look around. "Well, go on, guys," Laura gestured toward the living area. "Go find her."</p>
<p>Cooper sprinted into the living area, diving behind and under every piece of furniture before quickly moving to the next room and Lila toddled after him. Clint shook his head with a chuckle as he walked to the table. When he sat in the chair beside Cassandra's, Laura sat back in her seat.</p>
<p>"I think it's safe to say they love her," she said, with a pleasantly surprised smile as she signed her words. Then, she took another drink from her mug.</p>
<p>Clint nodded, "Yeah, I think so, too."</p>
<p>"How did she end up being the only one out of the three of you with abilities?" Laura was thinking out loud, mostly, but it was a question Clint had asked himself many times in years prior.</p>
<p>"I have no idea," he shook his head. "Gotta say, I'm happy with the abilities I've got."</p>
<p>The table shook gentle as a sudden breeze pushed out from Cassandra's chair, smoke engulfing the furniture. It faded away quickly, leaving Cassandra there, sitting on the seat as though she never left. "Are they still upstairs?" she asked Laura, the one closest to her immediate position.</p>
<p>"Um-" Laura leaned out of her chair to see, squinting a moment before sitting upright once again. "I think so."</p>
<p>Cassandra nodded once before taking a quick sip of her tea. "They're not too much, are they? We can tell them to cool it for a while," Clint offered.</p>
<p>"No, no- they're great," she twisted in her chair to see him, a smile burning creases into her cheeks. Then, footsteps on the stairs. "Oh, I gotta go. Hold on."</p>
<p>Purple smoke and spark replaced her as Cooper darted into the living area from the stairs. He ran into the kitchen, his chest heaving, and he checked under the table first. "Did you see her? Was she down here?" he questioned his parents quickly.</p>
<p>Laura hummed innocently, "I don't think so, honey. Maybe she's still upstairs?"</p>
<p>Clint stifled a chuckle and scrubbed a hand over his face as Cooper backed out from beneath the table. He climbed to his feet and ran away again, headed straight for the stairs. The sounds of his footsteps echoed until he reached the top. Cassandra could hear them from where she stood inside a closet.</p>
<p>She planned to let them find her, but she wanted to give them a good chase first—she wanted them to feel like they worked for it. Cooper certainly was. Lila, however, had gotten distracted when looking in her room. She sat on her floor, playing with the toys she'd left out when Clint came to tell her he was home, adding to the world she'd created for her dolls and their friends.</p>
<p>Cassandra could see Cooper through the cracked closet door. He hurried into the room and slowed, sneaking around to look under the bed, in the bathroom, even behind the dresser. Finally, she pounced. The door swung open and she slid out of the closet, the action alone startling Cooper enough to gain his attention. "Looking for me?" she patronized him playfully, closing the closet door behind her.</p>
<p>He made a grumbling sound of defeat and sighed heavily, "I was just about to check there!"</p>
<p>"Sorry, I guess I beat you to it. You got real close, though," she took steps toward him. "Maybe next time? Come on, let's go find your sister."</p>
<hr/>
<p>Carefully, Cassandra poured the contents of a stew pot into a strainer in the sink, softened, peeled potatoes dropping unceremoniously into the hot water draining onto them with a <em>splat</em>. The steam from the previously boiling water fanned upward and she leaned back, moving her face out of its path. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to put you to work," Laura apologized, scrunching up her nose at the sight.</p>
<p>"Oh, that's okay," Cassandra shook her head and placed the now empty pot back on the stove. "I don't mind—it gives me something to do."</p>
<p>It was a slippery slope when helping out in a kitchen. Clint had gone outside to barbecue steaks and Laura started preparing things inside, so it only felt natural to ask if there was anything she could help with. Getting out ingredients turned into starting the boiling water then became being in charge of the mashed potatoes.</p>
<p>But Cassandra truly didn't mind—she wasn't a master chef, though she did enjoy being in the kitchen, and it gave her a way to keep busy. She feared that if she sat still for too long, she would get nervous again. Even now, the anxiousness lingered on her skin like cheap perfume, as she focused on her task.</p>
<p>"Do you do a lot of cooking at home?" Laura asked, a bit rhetorically.</p>
<p>"Not a <em>lot </em>of cooking, but I know my way around a kitchen," she dumped the potatoes into a large bowl and began squashing them together with a masher and a few chunks of softened butter. "I usually just keep things light or eat out. I don't really need to make a whole meal if Ben's not around."</p>
<p>"Is Ben your boyfriend?"</p>
<p>Laura's uncertain voice caused Cassandra's arms to still with a shudder. She'd been focused enough on her hands that she paid no attention to her mind—or her <em>mouth</em>. It was a miracle, she knew, that she'd used the fake name and not his real one as it was. Cassandra exhaled and forced her hands to move. "Yeah. I mean, we haven't put a label on it or anything, but- yeah."</p>
<p>"Oh. How long have you been together?"</p>
<p>The way she asked the questions was timid and cautious, audibly afraid to cross an invisible line she feared was somewhere near her feet, but it sounded so <em>motherly</em>. Cassandra couldn't help but feel compelled to answer them, despite a deep-seated urge to divert the conversation.</p>
<p>"Almost a year, off and on. I've known him for two, though," she replied, willing calmness and confidence into her voice.</p>
<p>Laura brought cups down from a cupboard before reaching into one of the lower ones for a pitcher, setting all items on the counter. "Well, it's nice that you have someone," she said. "Now, I don't mean to sound ignorant—but the proper term for someone with abilities like you is 'mutant', right?"</p>
<p>Cassandra hummed, "Yeah, that's right."</p>
<p>"Do all mutants look like regular people, or is there a way to tell the difference?"</p>
<p>She paused, her hand on the salt shaker, and glanced over at Laura. What could she need that information for? Did the question go beyond smalltalk? But, then, it hit her—the children. Laura wanted to know how to tell for the sake of the children, to know if one of them was a mutant like Cassandra.</p>
<p>The thought relaxed her shoulders a bit, but she remained still. "I can't say there's a telltale sign. Our powers typically show up at puberty," Cassandra explained. "I was an early bird, and the mutant gene is carried through the males, so...just keep an eye out."</p>
<p>Laura's features gave her away, the casual facade fading the moment Cassandra finished, and she exhaled. "I'm sorry- I don't mean to sound like I'm against the idea. I'm not," she hurried to clarify. "I just don't know what to expect—this is all so sudden. I had no idea about this part of Clint's family."</p>
<p>"It's okay, I understand. It can be a big adjustment. My parents handled it by sending me to an all-mutant school in New York."</p>
<p>"Oh, I didn't know there was such a thing."</p>
<p>"They don't advertise too much anymore," Cassandra busied herself again, shaking some salt onto the mashed heap of potatoes in front of her. "It's a safety thing."</p>
<p>Laura's eyebrows rose in surprise, "Because people will hurt the children?"</p>
<p>Cassandra nodded and Laura placed a hand on her chest, turning her horror-stricken eyes back to the pitcher on the counter. "It's still the safest option for most mutants, though. There are some pretty powerful adults protecting the place," Cassandra assured, before reaching for the pepper.</p>
<p>It was then that Clint entered the house through the back door, carrying a plate of cooked steaks to the dinner table. His arrival held back a wave of possible questions and comments from Laura. Instead, she called for the kids and instructed them to set the table, then moved to the oven to check on her rolls.</p>
<p>Clint, however, stood by the table as Cooper rushed into the dining area, eyes shifting between his wife and sister. He could tell he'd interrupted <em>something</em>, but there wasn't enough body language left to decipher just what it was. As he went to the cupboard for dinner plates, he kept an eye on it. Another of his fears bringing Cassandra here was that she wouldn't get along with <em>Laura</em>.</p>
<p>If that's what was starting to happen, he needed to know as soon as possible, that way he might have a chance to fix it. Though, with the bare minimum he was seeing, he wasn't sure if he would know at all. Cooper put out silverware and Clint held up Lila while she placed the plates at each chair. Laura made iced tea in the pitcher while Cassandra finished the potatoes, and they were soon ready to sit.</p>
<p>It had been a very long time since Cassandra sat at a table and ate dinner with friends or family. She'd almost forgotten what it was like to laugh, enjoy the company. Clint smiled through dinner, never once letting up—the sight of his family all together enough to keep the warmth in his chest kindled. Though, both Barton siblings felt the emptiness of the sixth chair at the table.</p>
<p>There was just enough room for one more. Both at the table, and in their hearts. However, neither of them had spoken to their brother in years, and reconnecting to this extent would take many more. Clint hadn't been contacted since that fateful day when Barney erupted with anger and walked out—physically and metaphorically. But Cassandra kept calling.</p>
<p>Every other week or so, he would pick up, let her know he was still alive. Then there would be more anxious radio silence until the next answered call. Until three months later, when he stopped picking up entirely. The number had been disconnected and he didn't reach out to give her a new one, so she was forced to accept that he'd shut her out as well.</p>
<p>After dinner, Clint washed the dishes and Cassandra stood beside the sink with a towel to dry them while Laura took the kids upstairs to get ready for bed. She was quiet, drying off the plate in her hands, thoughts of that last missing piece swirling around the confines of her mind in a mixture of anxiety and grief. It was only a moment longer before Clint cleared his throat, drawing her gaze.</p>
<p>"You okay?" he asked, pausing his task to find her eyes. "You seem a little distant."</p>
<p>Cassandra sighed and placed the cleaned plate onto the counter beside the sink, freeing her hands to reply. "Just tired. Being social wears me out."</p>
<p>"Hm. I don't buy it."</p>
<p>Her features contorted, giving him an expression he recognized—<em>you're ridiculous</em>. He shrugged and continued washing the dishes, handing her another plate as he stuck to his guns on the subject. Cassandra took the dish and began drying it, but she found herself stopping, reaching up a hand to get Clint's attention.</p>
<p>"I miss him. Barney," her admittance came with a certain tone of sadness. "I wish he could be a part of this, you know? I don't...I don't even know where he is now."</p>
<p>Clint exhaled, his shoulders slumped with the weight of the bittersweet sentiment behind her words. "I know. I wish he was here, too. But he made his choice a long time ago."</p>
<p>"Did he?"</p>
<p>He stared into her eyes for a quiet moment. They held enough guilt and hurt for the both of them, loud enough even he could hear, the sound taking the form of a pain in the left side of his chest. Cassandra was always questioning—<em>did we do enough?</em>—and Clint thought he knew the answer. Now, he wasn't sure he <em>wanted </em>to know either way.</p>
<p>Cassandra had all but begged Barney to come around, to keep trying, but it always came back to Clint and his disappointment. Of course, Clint was just as helpless to stop Barney's spiral as Barney was. But the perceived grievances did nothing but drive them further apart. In trying to patch that relationship, Barney felt Cassandra picked a side, and it wasn't his.</p>
<p>Barney loved his sister—so much more than he cared for himself—but she was lost to him in his mind, and it wasn't long before that sentiment reached his heart. So, he severed all ties with the both of them to start over. Little did he know that doing so would set Cassandra and Clint on the right path to reconnect so many years later.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Sleep came quickly and, when it hit, it hit <em>hard</em>. There were no dreams—only a flash of black before light flooded back in. A dull ache throbbed at the base of her skull, her eyelids illuminated red as the sunlight heated her cheeks through the glass of her window. But it wasn't her window. No, it was Clint's.</p>
<p>Every muscle in her body tensed in a jolt, forcing her body upright with her eyes snapping open as the thought touched her groggy mind. Her tired, blue irises shifted slowly across the small guest room she'd fallen asleep in. Her duffel remained perched on the foot of the bed.</p>
<p>The bedspread beneath her was barely creased from her weight, as she hadn't even slid beneath the covers before sleep overcame her. Everything was in its place, untouched, but the density of her head urged her to double check. Though, she wasn't even aware what time it was. Enough sun poured through the window to give her a vague idea.</p>
<p>Carefully, she swung both legs over the edge and pushed herself off the bed. Her toes touched the frozen wood flooring and jerked, her bare feet briefly pulling away as a chill ran up her spine, forcing out a hiss of surprise from between her teeth. Mornings were chilly in the city, but this was a whole new level—especially considering her habit of turning on the heat.</p>
<p>Once more, she pushed herself down, forcing her feet to fully connect with the wood. She stepped to the end of the bed and dug through her duffel for a new shirt, before taking it and her toiletry bag to the bathroom. Dropping the bag on the counter beside the sink, she placed her folded shirt on the closed toilet lid and began to disrobe.</p>
<p>She wasn't truly, but it <em>felt </em>like she was peeling every item away from her skin after sleeping so deeply in them. The first spurt of water from the shower head was cold, covering her body in bumps as she shuffled away from it in a startle. But then the water began to spray warm and she moved beneath them, allowing it to run over her skin, heating up her tense muscles.</p>
<p>She tipped her head back and the water poured over her face, doing its best to wash away the feeling of incomplete rest. As she soaped and scrubbed and rinsed, she kept her mind blank in an effort to remain in the present, thoughts of the past still lingering in the morning. They threatened to take her back again, their weight worsening the throb in her skull.</p>
<p>When she was done, she turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping herself in the towel hung beside the shower before moving to the sink. Her fingers unpacked the toothbrush and paste and set them on the other side of the sink and then reached for her hairbrush. However, the mirror was fogged from her use of hot water.</p>
<p>So, she leaned over the sink to wipe her hand across the mirror, clearing whatever space she could reach. The second her hand crossed the glass, a face not her own was revealed, and her body reacted with a violent startle. Her feet shuffled backward, shoulder blades thudding against the bathroom wall. But even her wide eyes, blown with sudden adrenaline, could see the immediate familiarity of the features. It was <em>Charles</em>.</p>
<p>The illusion of him, at least. It looked as though he stood beside her at the sink but he wasn't, the space beside her still rather empty. Cassandra's chest heaved heavily, quickly as she stared him down with narrowed eyes. "What the <em>fuck</em>, Charles?" she all but growled, stepping closer to the mirror.</p>
<p>Professor Xavier's visage reflected in the glass. A projection, she knew—but an incredibly unwelcome one. "I'm terribly sorry for the interruption," his features were apologetic, but determined. "Though, I'm afraid, very necessary. It's best that I explain everything in person. I know that's a lot to ask of you-"</p>
<p>"You want me to come back? Right now?"</p>
<p>Cassandra's eyebrows jerked upward, her jaw fallen with shock and frustration as she stared at him in the mirror. "Please," he nodded, again apologetic. She had wondered just what he'd been keeping from her, but this was not at all how she wanted to find out. Of course, she could put on some clothes and teleport into Charles' office in the blink of an eye.</p>
<p>The question, however, wasn't if she could or how easy it would be. It was, <em>should she?</em> Should she really jeopardize this time, this happiness, for information with a high likelihood of leading to another mission? No. No, she shouldn't. She knew that in her bones, yet still she felt something tugging her at the surface level.</p>
<p>"I'll leave you to get dressed," Charles said. "If you decide to accept, you know where to find me."</p>
<p>He faded quickly from the glass, disappearing entirely. Instinctively, Cassandra dropped her towel and reached for her undergarments, pulling them on as quickly as her shaky hands could manage. She felt offense, anger at the idea that he would ask. Yet, at the same time, intrigue and—beneath it all—<em>relief</em>.</p>
<p>That was the most terrifying part. She felt relieved to be asked to come back, even if just for information. After all this time, she still hadn't shaken that all-encompassing need for approval, for validation from the professor and her peers. Her team. Why would he ask her back if he didn't <em>need </em>her?</p>
<p>It's a dangerous thing to be needed when the ones who need you are the ones who suffocate you. The rush was like a drug and, after almost seven years sober, it hit her veins harder than she anticipated. She put on her clothes and used her towel to dry her hair, furiously rubbing the cloth over her head and patting it down.</p>
<p>The brown, worn strands were still damp when she decided her time had run out, but she didn't care too much about her appearance. She pattered on her bare feet to the nightstand where she'd left her phone the night before. A thumb press to the center button revealed the clock—<em>8:23AM</em>. Behind it, her lockscreen photo.</p>
<p>The picture hadn't been changed since before leaving the school. It was one of the things she'd gotten lazy about, opting to leave it untouched in the name of indecision. Though, she couldn't deny the twinge in her chest every time her eyes caught sight of it. It was a sweet photo.</p>
<p>A much younger Cassandra, her graduation certificate in her hands, and a tall redhead with her arms wrapped around the young version's shoulders. <em>Jean</em>. She was arguably one of Cassandra's favorite teachers, but she was an even closer friend, until that retched, horrid day. The day Jean was taken from them all.</p>
<p><em>What are you doing?</em> she asked herself, prying her eyes from the phone screen with a heavy, angry sigh. Seeing Jean again only reminded her of that sacrifice. The painful memory dug a crude knife into the small of her back, but it brought enough guilt with it to turn her stomach sour.</p>
<p>It was then she made up her mind. And, against the wailing of her better judgement, she disappeared in that cloud of smoke. Regret sunk into her chest as the purple brought her steps from the front door of the school. Then, anger. Anger for being asked and put in this position, anger at the guilt, at herself. But it was the anger that pushed her forward, right through the heavy wooden doors.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. a slippery slope</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first thing that hit her was the sound. The school was still anything but quiet during daylight hours. Stray students wandered the halls between classes, friends talked and laughed on the way, sports were constantly played outside and echoed through the open courtyard doors, soft whinnies from the stables—someone was always doing <em>something </em>here, even at night.</p>
<p>Next was the smell, riding the light breeze fanned at her upon opening the door quite roughly. It was the same as well—floral but musk, pungently so. Her senses were bombarded by the stimuli, flooding her veins with a dangerous rush of adrenaline, almost dizzyingly. Head spinning, stomach in her toes, she took uncertain steps along a familiar path to the Professor's office.</p>
<p>Despite her rigid shoulders and neck, her eyes wandered—mind following them into each open room she passed. It felt like an unsettlingly real dream. But she carried on, somehow finding her way to her destination in spite of it. She'd been so distracted by it all that seeing the door to the office caused her a moment's pause. Cassandra stared at it, as she had done many times before, and she exhaled a shaky breath.</p>
<p><em>Come in</em>.</p>
<p>Charles' voice echoed softly at the back of her mind, though she couldn't quite tell if it was a memory or the hand reaching out to pull her back to the present. The sound of his voice triggered a rush of anger, a sudden realization with a hard blink, and she forced herself to swallow the lump in her throat. It was the present, she knew. And it was demanding far too much of her.</p>
<p>So, she pushed open the door and stepped inside, muscles tensing to brace against the sight of the professor behind his desk—a once comforting sight. "I repeat-" she balled her hands into fists at her sides, digging half moons into her palms, the door falling closed with a soft thud. "-what the <em>fuck</em>, Charles?"</p>
<p>"You kiss your boyfriend with that mouth?"</p>
<p>Logan's voice drew Cassandra's eyes. As her gaze swept to the left, she saw more than just one familiar face. Logan stood almost directly on the other side of the office from her with thick arms folded over his chest. Beside him was Storm, eyeing Cassandra with a reserved expression of shock. Though, the most painful sight of the three was <em>Scott</em>, standing by the window.</p>
<p>He'd paused in his position, halfway turned to see her with a slack jaw. Cassandra forced herself to swallow again. He looked older—they all did, except Logan—and worn out, and a worried thought fluttered quickly across her mind, as delicate and small as a butterfly, but it was there. <em>Was he not sleeping again?</em> <em>Was it the reason for her summon here keeping him up? </em></p>
<p>With a small, unnoticeable shake of her head, she turned her eyes to Charles. He waited patiently behind his desk. He was always patient with her, even in times like this when she, arguably, didn't deserve it. But being too stern with her would force her away, and he might not ever get her back. So, there he waited.</p>
<p>"I'm with family right now," Cassandra added an explanation to her anger, before crossing her arms. "Why do I need to be here?"</p>
<p>"I understand and, again, I apologize. Unfortunately, this now involves you, too. We've been keeping an eye on certain persons of interest, in case they should attempt another revolt. Magneto's allies have been committing small crimes here and there, and we didn't think much of it. However-"</p>
<p>It was then that Logan spoke up, once again gaining Cassandra's attention, "They're connected somehow. Found out the hard way, thanks to a run-in with the blue bitch."</p>
<p>"Mystique," Storm corrected him.</p>
<p>Logan barely refrained from rolling his eyes back into his skull, settling instead for a huff of annoyance. "That's why you came to my apartment?" Cassandra asked him, an eyebrow raised in a mixture of surprise and intrigue.</p>
<p>"Yeah."</p>
<p>Cassandra turned back to the professor, then. "What does this have to do with me?"</p>
<p>"Last night, your brother came to our door in search of you," Charles answered. "He was badly injured but only insisted on your safety. It would seem Magneto is looking for you. For what purpose, we're not sure."</p>
<p>Cassandra's heart rate spiked, sending the organ spiraling into her throat with the mention of a brother. Clint was home last night and there was no way anyone came there in the night. She would've heard it, she would've woken up. Wouldn't she? That left <em>Barney</em>, the brother she was sure no one knew about, given she'd never mentioned his name here <em>or </em>around Magneto.</p>
<p>If anything, that thought only drove a knife into her chest. The sharp pain shown through in her eyes as her expression changed. Her jaw slacked, features smoothed with shock—but her eyes remained full of worry. "Barney? He was here? Where is he now?" the questions tumbled out, each word fighting the next to get past her lips.</p>
<p>"He's downstairs, asleep. He's going to be fine," Storm answered with a calm voice. Under any other circumstance, it just might soothe her enough to relax.</p>
<p>"Cassandra," Scott spoke her name and her head snapped to the left, eyes landing immediately on the dark lenses of his glasses. "Do you know why Magneto would be looking for you?"</p>
<p>"<em>No</em>," Cassandra's voice had risen with her emotions, adding unintentional—<em>subconscious</em>—venom to every syllable. "No, I <em>don't</em>, Scott. We weren't exactly on speaking terms last time I checked. Whatever he wants can wait—I need to see my brother."</p>
<p>Charles turned his chair and started around the corner of his desk, traveling toward Cassandra. "Yes, of course. Come with me."</p>
<p>He went on by her in a straight line. The door opened for him seemingly on its own a moment before he passed through, and Cassandra exhaled a heavy, rueful breath as her feet turned instinctively to follow. It seemed more and more obvious that the price to pay for reuniting with her oldest brother was a trip down memory lane. And, although she didn't protest it, her hands <em>trembled </em>at her sides from the thought of it.</p>
<p>Her time spent alone, away from everyone and everything here, felt like a kind of progress. She was more independent, self-sufficient, responsible, and in control of herself. But returning to the depths of this building only showed just how much she'd been fooling herself. There was no control in the way she felt, the thoughts entering her mind with every step.</p>
<p>Heat was traveling to her palms, congregating faster with every extra beat of her heart, forcing her to keep every finger in a tight fist. Cassandra was embarrassingly out of practice. Though, she didn't need another blow-up, another broken vase—so she took deep breaths as she walked a step behind Charles, following him to the elevator. Children of varying ages passed them in the hall.</p>
<p>Some glanced up curiously at her, but most kept their heads down or simply didn't care to look. It wasn't out of the ordinary behavior. There were, more often than not, new students every week. New names, new faces, new abilities. Children and teens came and went like the weather as they always had. "There's no need to be nervous," Charles spoke suddenly, entering the elevator.</p>
<p>Cassandra's eyes followed him inside before her feet did, stepping inside to stand beside him. The bright, white light of the fluorescents illuminated them both as she inhaled. "You said you'd stay out of my head."</p>
<p>"I don't have to read your mind to tell when you're nervous, Cassandra," he replied, as the door slid shut with a soft hiss. "Do you honestly believe I never noticed what you do with your hands? When you're standing, you make a fist. Sitting, you wring them—rather aggressively."</p>
<p>For lack of a proper response, she kept her jaw shut, clenched. It was true—every word he said, every observation he'd had, was as true as it always was. If anything, it only made her more angry. She didn't want to bond with him, she didn't want to know he cared. Not on the surface. The elevator only took a moment to descend before reopening, and Cassandra didn't wait for the professor before stepping out, already well aware of her way around.</p>
<p>She knew exactly where the infirmary was. As a teen, she'd been taken there more than her fair share, with injuries ranging from a broken limb to a third degree burn. Every time was drilled into her brain. The pathway stored in her memory, she walked quickly, bordering on <em>jogging </em>to her destination.</p>
<p>The silver tunnels, brightly illuminated hallways, finally let out to a decently sized room. In the center, a table with medical equipment. This time, on the table was an unconscious man, IV's in his arm and a monitor beeping beside him. The closer she became, the more her heart stumbled, staggering, falling into the pit of her stomach as she came to a stop next to the table.</p>
<p>There he was. His hair unruly and much longer than he liked, thick stubble covering his jaw and chin, and even in sleep his features sagged—drooping with a heavy mixture of exhaustion, pain, and age. Cassandra's eyes caught on the deep coloring of the skin around his left eye, the red and irritated slit in his lower lip. Even the underside of his nostrils was stained a faded red, tinging it pink with the history of a bleeding nose.</p>
<p>She looked to his bare torso as her chest tightened. Bruising peppered his abdomen with purple, pink, and yellow. The sight turned her stomach on its head, nauseated with anger and worry. "Oh...<em>Barney</em>," her voice was a shaken whisper against the lump in her throat as she reached out a hand, carefully touching his shoulder. "What did they <em>do </em>to you?"</p>
<p>Charles stayed a few feet away, sitting silently. These situations were always so difficult. Although he didn't personally know either of her brothers, seeing her so distraught over Barney's injuries <em>pained </em>him, and even more so the knowledge that she would blame herself for every wound.</p>
<p>Arguably, it <em>was </em>her fault. However, not at all consciously—and, even if she knew what Magneto was up to, there wouldn't be many ways to stop him. Blame was a slippery slope, a thin line between fact and fiction often blurred by emotion. Charles knew that better than anyone. He waited patiently aside the table for any questions she may have, anything she may want to say.</p>
<p>But she was just as quiet, trying desperately to swallow, the corners of her eyes burning. It was all she could do not to react somehow. To yell, to scream, to cry, to <em>wail</em>. The urge to do something was itching just beneath her skin. Finally, Charles tilted his head as he rolled forward a few inches, looking up to see her face.</p>
<p>"Cassandra?" he spoke gently.</p>
<p>She sniffled hard and shook her head—the action more to shake herself free from her thoughts than anything else. "I thought Magneto was powerless," she mumbled. "Does he not have something better to do with his time now?"</p>
<p>"I'm afraid...the cure wasn't all it was hoped to be. It is a temporary fix."</p>
<p>Cassandra's head turned quickly, eyebrows drawing together. How could she not have heard this? Wouldn't that information spread across the news networks, warning people of incoming mutant resurgence? Maybe she'd been so distracted during one of Loki's visits that she missed it entirely?</p>
<p>But Charles gave a shake of his head, "No, dear. It's not public knowledge—not in the way it should be. If they told everyone it didn't truly work, that would only worsen their fear, and the government would be forced to do more than they should."</p>
<p>The laugh that escaped Cassandra was heartless, empty. "They've been doing that this whole time. <em>Now </em>they care about anti-mutant optics?"</p>
<p>"I understand your rage, Cassandra. It can be very useful, but you mustn't let it use <em>you</em>—you will need to be able to focus if you're to face Erik again."</p>
<p>Her eyes wandered back to Barney's face, turning away from the professor. He was right. She would need to be fully focused and prepared. However, this was the worst possible time for a mutant manhunt. Clint might even be looking for her at this very moment. "I need to talk to Clint first," she said. "I'm supposed to be visiting him for the weekend. He's not gonna believe where Barney finally turned up."</p>
<p>"Your brothers care for you greatly. From what we could understand of his ramblings, Barney here never gave them a location, yet he somehow managed to come straight here in search of you. If he and Clint are anything alike, I'm sure he'll understand the interruption."</p>
<p>Although she knew Barney was safe here, Cassandra didn't want to leave him. The very instinct to protect that drove her to join the war on mutants was compelling her to stay. But she knew better than to leave Clint in the dark, especially when it concerned their brother—and, despite the difficulty, she retracted her hand.</p>
<p>It left a nauseous feeling in her gut, an uneasiness that dizzied her mind with its gentle lull. "I'll be a minute. If he wakes up, can you tell him I'm coming back?" she asked, eyes shifting down to meet Charles'.</p>
<p>He nodded once. "Of course."</p>
<p>Once the words left his mouth, she was gone, and his shoulders settled against the back of his chair. It was hard not to consider the drastic change in her temperament over the course of their relationship. He knew she was simply a victim to circumstance, to unfortunate events and horrible accidents. Though, the wish for a different outcome existed in his heart.</p>
<p>Logan announced his presence with a grunt as he entered the room. Charles turned his chair to face him as he approached, holding in a heavy sigh at the sight of a cigar between Logan's fingers. "Don't you think it would be best to smoke those <em>outside</em>?" Charles posed the question rhetorically, with a pointedly raised brow.</p>
<p>"Yeah, yeah—don't shit your <em>Depends </em>over it," Logan grumbled. "The kid's coming back, right?"</p>
<p>"Yes, Logan. She's gone to tell her other brother what's happened and then she will return. In the meantime, we need to focus our efforts on finding out Erik's motive."</p>
<p>Logan huffed a stoic chuckle, "Could it have something to do with her practically blowing him away at Alcatraz?"</p>
<p>"Well, if he wanted fire power, there are much better options out there at the moment," Charles pointed out. "And not just for the sake of stability."</p>
<p>"You weren't there, Charles. You didn't see what she did. This girl—<em>my </em>girl—jumped from a class two to a class four in the span of a couple hours. If he's gunning for <em>her</em>, he's gotta be planning somethin' big."</p>
<p>In a bat of her lashes, Cassandra appeared in the guest room at Clint's house, feet from the end of the bed. And although in many ways it were as if she never left, her absence had been found out. At first, Clint knocked on her door to warn her breakfast was almost ready. When she never answered the door, even after more knocking and persuading, worry began to take hold. Was she really that heavy a sleeper?</p>
<p>He enlisted Laura's help before jumping to conclusions, asking her to listen for a response as he knocked a fourth time. She put her ear to the door, he knocked and called out for Cassandra, and Laura shook her head. There was no sound from the other side whatsoever. That was when the worry truly settled in, making itself comfortable in the center of his chest, pulling the strings of his emotions as he sent his boot into the door.</p>
<p><em>The knob needed replaced anyway</em>, he told himself. Though, truly, his mind was spiraling to the worst possible conclusions. His heart began to race as he hurried into the room, eyes scanning the space before checking the bathroom. Laura stepped inside, but it was clear Cassandra was not in the room. She was worried as well. However, she opted to first take the more rational approach.</p>
<p>"Clint, honey-" Laura waved a hand to draw his sporadic gaze as it zig-zagged around the room once more, approaching her from the empty bathroom.</p>
<p>"Where's her cell phone?" he was thinking out loud, distracted by the adrenaline, as he passed her. His feet carried him toward the bed, hands quickly yet carefully diving into the duffel bag at the end. "Did she take her phone?"</p>
<p>While he frantically searched, Laura did her best to help, coming to the bed to look around. There was a charger plugged in at the nightstand—but there was no phone attached. Quickly, she reached for his shoulder, fingers taking hold to make sure he was paying attention this time. He looked up, and she pointed to the nightstand. "No phone. That's a good thing, right? She left on purpose?" she questioned.</p>
<p>Clint exhaled a heavy breath and took a step back, running a hand over his hair. "Yeah...that's at least a good sign," he nodded as he reached for his pocket. "I'm gonna try calling her."</p>
<p>"And if she doesn't pick up?"</p>
<p>All he could do was shake his head, thumbs moving quickly over the dial pad of his phone. Fingers threatening to shake, he clenched his jaw to steady himself—then, movement. A flash of something jerked his head up, robotic in his determination, only to see his wife hurriedly waving him down.</p>
<p>One of her hands grabbed his right shoulder and the other pointedly wildly at something behind him. The words her lips formed caused him to blink hard—<em>there she is</em>. Almost immediately, he turned on his heels. <em>There she was</em>. Standing at the end of the bed, she looked grim, her features washed out and noticeably sunken. Clint's body flushed down all the worry and adrenaline with a sudden rush of relief that forced an exhale from him. "Jesus Christ, Cass," he breathed, forcing his phone back into his pocket.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry I didn't warn you guys before I popped out, it just happened," Cassandra apologized, taking steps toward her brother. "There's something going on back in New York. I'm not sure why it involves me, but it does—and part of it's about Barney."</p>
<p>Clint's eyebrows knitted in confusion. He never knew just where his brother went all those years ago, and he'd wondered occasionally where he got off to, but New York never quite landed on the list of possibilities. "What are you talking about?"</p>
<p>"Barney showed up at the school last night. He didn't know I moved out, so he thought he could find me there. But, he was hurt, Clint. Magneto—the guy the military wanted when I was on the news you mentioned? He's looking for me. I guess he thought Barney might know where I went."</p>
<p>"Oh my god. Is he okay?" Laura asked, as she came to stand beside Clint. She placed her hand on the space between his shoulder blades, a comforting gesture he didn't quite know he was in need of until the warmth of her palm reached his skin. His heart was sufficiently in his throat. First, worry consumed him on behalf of his missing sister. Now, it was creeping in on the pretense of a negative answer on behalf of his brother.</p>
<p>Cassandra sighed, bobbing her head left and right in a fifty-fifty gesture. "He doesn't look great, but he'll recover. He's still asleep, though," she replied, eyes shifting between Laura and Clint. "I'm sorry to cut the visit short—I really need to be there."</p>
<p>Again, Laura spoke up, "No, don't apologize. Barney needs you. Clint, you should be there when he wakes up, too."</p>
<p>Clint understood her words, catching enough of them to gather meaning, but that was the least of his problems. "I'm not sure that's a good idea, honey," he shook his head.</p>
<p>"She's right, Clint," Cassandra agreed with her sister-in-law. "I can take you- you'll be back just as fast. Magneto doesn't even know this place, or your family, exists. No one does. They'll be safe."</p>
<p>It felt like the right thing to do, going with her to see his brother. Although, the anxiety from the thought of another meeting gone wrong with Barney and the bone-crushing fear for his family's safety was a recipe for disaster. All it would take to lose his mind was for the two to collide. But how was he to tell these women 'no', when all parties involved would know he was simply <em>scared</em>?</p>
<p>Both fears were things that had a fifty-fifty chance of coming to pass. Though what Cassandra said did drastically diminish the chances of Laura and the kids being harmed, Barney violently protesting Clint's presence when he woke up was still too high for comfort. "Yeah, okay," he grumbled his agreement with hesitation.</p>
<p>Laura rose on her toes to kiss his cheek, running her hand across his shoulder blades before stepping away. "I'll handle the kids until you get back."</p>
<p>"I'll be back as soon as I can," he told her, as his head tilted ever so slightly, eyes filling with the warmth that bubbled up in his chest. Then, with fondness, he said, "I love you."</p>
<p>"I love you, too. Both of you be safe."</p>
<p>Cassandra walked across the few feet between her and Clint, reached out a hand. Her fingers encircled his wrist as she gave Laura a small smile—the biggest, most heartfelt she could force onto her lips, given the morning she'd had. "Thanks, Laura," she said, with a nod. "Call if you need us."</p>
<p>It was then that she took them both, a cloud of purple wisps and faint sparks taking their place in the guest room. When they reappeared, they stood in the infirmary, not far from the place she'd left the room from. "There you are," Storm acknowledged Cassandra's reentry, passing by to check the vital signs of the monitors beside Barney.</p>
<p>"Here I am," Cassandra let go of Clint only to step closer to the table, her voice a grumbling sarcasm beneath a deep exhale. She spoke up as she introduced her second sibling, "This is Clint, by the way. He's only here for Barney."</p>
<p>Storm turned her head to see them both, expression vague as her eyes met Clint's. Cassandra had mentioned him many times over the years she'd stayed at the school. Sometimes he was a source of stress and hurt, sometimes he was brought up in conversation to tell a heartfelt story. "It's nice to meet you. My name is Storm. I was one of Cassandra's teachers," she told him, with a small nod.</p>
<p>The tension, the <em>past </em>between Storm and Cassandra was thick enough to feel, tangible in a thick awkwardness that coated the skin. Clint knew something happened between the two long before she admitted to being a previous teacher. Their interactions were strained enough that he wondered, briefly, if he should regard Storm with such pleasantries.</p>
<p>But, regardless, he returned the nod. "Nice to meet you."</p>
<p>"Oh, great," Logan's dryly sarcastic voice forced Cassandra's head to turn, twisting her torso to witness his second entrance to the room, Scott striding in by his side. "There's two of them."</p>
<p>"You'll have to excuse Logan. He's just the local asshole," Scott spoke looking to Clint, walking on a path set straight for him. He held out his hand as he approached and Cassandra instinctively took a step back, removing herself from his proximity. Instead, she turned back to Barney, carefully brushing her index finger through the overgrown hairs at the side of his head.</p>
<p>Clint noticed the shift, but he remained still, raising an eyebrow at the odd shape of Scott's glasses. "Clint. Cass's brother," he introduced himself, grasping Scott's hand in a firm shake. "If he's the asshole and she's the teacher, who are <em>you </em>supposed to be?"</p>
<p>"You'll have to ask your sister. Usually I'm just Scott. Sometimes I'm Cyclops—when the situation calls for it. It's good to finally meet you, Clint."</p>
<p>Logan stood at the end of the table, folding his arms over his chest with a sigh. It was hard not to roll his eyes. Though, he did find himself fighting that urge so many times in a day that he couldn't possibly count. At this point, that reaction was simply an instinct of habit, but he still believed it was called for in most situations.</p>
<p>He eyed Cassandra while the others exchanged names. With Magneto's sudden interest and Logan's strong hunch, he thought it best keep watch—to keep track of details and mannerisms to further prove, or disprove, his theory. Although, right now, she was simply and very clearly depressed. She had been since he first met her. It was a day that would stay with him, he knew, for good as well as bad reasons.</p>
<p>One of the starkly good reasons being their rather abrupt introduction. He was shaken and, admittedly, fearful of his circumstance—then she teleported in, simply on her way to suit up for a danger room session, and her blue doe eyes found him frantic in the silver hallways. Now, he noticed her eyes were dull, unfocused and borderline lifeless as she gazed down at her brother.</p>
<p>The version of her he knew—the fearless, broken girl he fought so hard to save all those years ago, the girl who saved <em>him</em>—was gone. It was an unsettling realization, but he kept it to himself as he watched her, one ear with her and the other on the conversation taking place beside them both.</p>
<p>"So, what happened to him? That Magneto guy did this?" Clint questioned Scott.</p>
<p>"Yes and no. Magneto is behind it, but—from what we can tell—it was done by mutants working <em>with </em>him," Scott explained. "We're not sure yet why, but he's looking for Cassandra. We assume he thought Barney would know her whereabouts. After the attack, he came straight here."</p>
<p>Clint glanced back at his brother before raising an eyebrow in a mixture of confusion and skepticism at Scott, "Barney told you all that?"</p>
<p>"We've pieced a lot of it together. He wasn't very lucid when he got here," Scott shrugged one shoulder, unsure of how else to phrase it.</p>
<p>Clint then looked to Cassandra, turning his head to see her, and her eyes left Barney only to meet Clint's at the sight of movement in her peripheral. "You're going to go after these guys, aren't you?" he asked the rhetorical question with rue.</p>
<p>Her irises refocused as she nodded, a shadow fallen over her features, "I'm gonna find Magneto, and he's going to wish he never came looking for me."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. wood smoke</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"So, this is some kind of...<em>superhero</em> team?"</p>
<p>Clint's eyebrows raised as he looked at Cassandra from the leather <em>X</em> emblem on her old suit. It was no longer hung, but folded and placed aside—and, although it smarted to some extent, she could understand why. They needed the space. They needed a replacement. She couldn't expect them to mourn her absence forever. No, the X-Men would move on. And, in most ways, they already had. Hadn't she?</p>
<p>With a small huff of tired laughter, Cassandra nodded as her shoulder blades touched the sliver of wall between displays. "Yeah, you could call it that," she signed her reply, despite the shake of her hands. "Not sure these guys would use that word. They're a brittle bunch."</p>
<p>"Who you calling <em>brittle</em>?"</p>
<p>Her head snapped to the left, eyes quickly searching for the sudden voice. Standing in the entry to the room was yet another familiar face attached to childhood memories, though this one was arguably one of the most positive. <em>Bobby</em>. A smile of surprise and genuine, internalized joy crept onto her face as she pushed away from the wall. "Bobby? Oh my god. Did you get <em>taller</em>?" she asked, taking steps toward him.</p>
<p>He returned the smile and moved into the room, looking down at her with bright eyes of relief. "Me? You should see Pete."</p>
<p>Cassandra wrapped her arms around his shoulders and he reciprocated quickly, his arms sliding around her torso to give a comforting squeeze. Many years ago, young Cassandra's friend pool was small, the pool of <em>close </em>friends even smaller. Bobby Drake swam in both with ease. She often found herself in positions of needing protection—from other people, from herself—and Bobby had a habit of giving it to her. He was like an older brother.</p>
<p>Though, at the time, it was hard to know just what that looked like. She could only assume what his unwavering support was as her own older brothers exited her life so unceremoniously. When they pulled away from their hug, Bobby looked to Clint, who stood back with a curious, observant eye. "Hey, I'm Bobby. You must be Clint," he stepped forward, holding out a hand.</p>
<p>"That's me. Nice to meet you," Clint nodded and shook the young man's hand. "So, uh, what're <em>you </em>in for? If you don't mind me asking."</p>
<p>Bobby chuckled at the choice of words, glancing briefly at Cassandra. "I guess you could say I'm just a really chill guy-"</p>
<p>"Ugh, really? I told you how lame that sounds."</p>
<p>Kitty Pryde entered the small room with a wrinkled nose, squinted eyes of secondhand embarrassment aimed at the back of Bobby's head. A heavy sigh escaped Bobby but any words he might've said were silenced by Cassandra's voice. It rose an octave, her eyes wide as they looked over the woman in place of a girl she used to bunk with. "<em>Kitty</em>!" she practically gasped.</p>
<p>"Hey, Cass," Kitty smiled warmly, before throwing her arms around Cassandra. "It's so good to see you."</p>
<p>Bobby turned to see both sides of the room. It was an odd sight to behold—Cassandra Barton, years older, in a place that virtually hadn't changed from their youth. On one hand, it was a startling acknowledgement of passed time. But on the other, It was a warm, sweet string that tugged at his chest, putting a light behind his features that had been dimmed for far too long. His friend had come home. His <em>family</em>.</p>
<p>"Did Charles tell <em>everyone </em>I was here?" Cassandra asked, stepping back from Kitty.</p>
<p>Bobby shook his head, "No, just the team. Storm filled us in on what happened to your brother. I thought maybe some familiar faces might help with the nerves."</p>
<p>"Is Kurt-?"</p>
<p>"He's out doing recon," Kitty placed a hand on Cassandra's shoulder, a small gesture radiating gentle reassurance that forced Cassandra to swallow. "He won't be back for a while. But, he <em>does </em>know you're here."</p>
<p>That was the second most alarming thing she'd heard this morning. Dread mixed with guilt mixed with relief, swirling in her gut like a stirred drink, the force of the emotions adding a dull throb to the base of her skull. She introduced Kitty to Clint to distract herself, but the thought was still there. Despite recalling her time with him fondly, the possibility of seeing him again after all this time was terrifying.</p>
<p>Part of her mind tried desperately to hold onto the prospect of gentle reunion. The X-Men moved on—maybe he had, too? However, she knew it couldn't be that simple. Hearts don't heal from lacerations easily, but she held his in her hands, felt the pulse beat against her palms, and <em>shattered </em>it. Hers was just as damaged that year. Though, it was dragging him down with her that drove the final nail in.</p>
<p>Cassandra's eyes unfocused, drifting slightly as her mind raced. No one had quite noticed. Bobby and Kitty were giving Clint a more in-depth explanation of just what the X-Men were, what they did, why they existed. They showed him what they could do—Kitty taking a step through the nearest wall and Bobby turning his hand to solid ice.</p>
<p>Clint was thoroughly shaken from the day he'd had—and it wasn't even noon yet!—but he tried his best to keep an open mind. Though, the concept of a group of superhero mutants was equal parts comical and infuriating. It angered him to know that these people saw what his sister could do and put it to use, putting her in harm's way more often than not.</p>
<p>It was Cassandra's choice to join, yes, but what reasonable adult tells a child to stand in the way of bullets? What greater good was worth his kid sister's life? It was a hard pill to swallow, much less <em>digest</em>. "I bet you're a hit at parties," Clint remarked, eyes moving up from Bobby's icy fingers.</p>
<p>Bobby chuckled once, nodding a little, "I'm real handy when the cooler ice melts."</p>
<p>"Or when you need someone to freeze the water balloons." Kitty tilted her head as she looked up at Bobby. Her expression was easy to read, and Clint couldn't hold back a brief grimace. She was speaking from experience, he knew. Frozen water balloons weren't something he'd ever been hit with. Though, it was easy to imagine the pain, especially when hurled at other <em>children</em>.</p>
<p>"That's a little violent, isn't it?" Clint questioned, glancing between the two. "Don't you have any supervision at this place?"</p>
<p>Cassandra caught the last few words as her mind slowly eased its way back to normalcy. Eyes still slightly unfocused, she exhaled. "If you think freezing a water balloon is violent, I'd hate to hear your thoughts on the danger room."</p>
<p>Clint's eyebrows shot up simultaneously, "<em>Danger</em> room?"</p>
<p>"It's not what it sounds like-" Bobby's quick defense was interrupted by an empty, dizzied laugh from Cassandra. Of course it was. It was every bit what it sounded like and more—a room of manufactured danger, designed to help train the X-Men for future battles. At one point, it was Cassandra's second favorite room in the mansion.</p>
<p>Her <em>first</em>? She'd been living there for almost two years and still didn't quite fit. There were plenty of small social circles to swim in, but she could only float and wade around the currents, so she clung to a rock along the edge—the untouched corner of a space on the third floor, practically in the attic. It was bordered by bookshelves with a couch and dusty coffee table.</p>
<p>Though, she spent her time on the wide window sill, tucked into the glass where she could use the natural light and take mental breaks from a book to look down at the gardens. It was perfect, and <em>safe</em>. Somehow, the danger room had felt safe, too. The training sessions helped her connect, to others and to herself. She could use her abilities without scrutiny from the outside world—or, more importantly, threat of injury.</p>
<p>But now she fought to hold them inside again. They were banging on the locked doors of her palms, the chains she wrapped tightly around them worn too thin. It scared her to think that just a little taste, a small accident, was enough to awaken them. Cassandra shifted weight between her feet, wrapping her arms around her torso as the laugh that escaped her faded as quickly as it had emerged, palms against the ribs of her sweater.</p>
<p>Everyone was looking at her now. She could feel their eyes, but hers were on the ground—that is, until Logan stepped in front of the doorway. "Hey," he alerted them to his presence. "He's awake." Cassandra looked up to see him only as he'd already turned away, but she didn't need to fully comprehend his words to follow him.</p>
<p>She moved subconsciously, her feet carrying her out of the room and along the silver halls, back to the infirmary. Clint wasn't far behind her—shuffling quickly despite the anxiety threatening to cripple his lungs. It was the voice Cassandra heard that overwhelmed her first, the same voice she'd heard like a muted tin can through the phone all those years ago. This time clearer but gruffer, worn and tired, and <em>frustrated</em>.</p>
<p>Then, there he was—sitting upright on the table, legs lazily hanging from the edge, as his hands weakly swatted Storm away—and a breath caught in her throat. It was surreal to see him animated and functional, to hear an active voice after so long of still photographs and muted memories. "Barney," she gasped, feeling the sting in her eyes return, building pressure against her temples as she approached.</p>
<p>Barney's head turned, lifting, and his bloodshot eyes swept up her frame. It was equally as surreal for him—but the relief was much stronger, flooding down his spine hard enough to force a shudder in his shoulders as they relaxed. "Cassie," the tension he held through his slumber dissipated with the realization that she was safe, and she was within reach for the first time in a decade. "You're okay? They didn't find you-"</p>
<p>His words were silenced as her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, the throbbing and aching of his beaten muscles forcing a groan in place of the next question mark. She'd tried to slow herself down, to be gentle, but she couldn't. Carefully, his arms encircled her, palms flat against her shoulder blades, and his eyes fluttered closed. "I'm okay- I'm okay, I'm fine-" she answered him, words repeating themselves with the tremble of her lips.</p>
<p>"Hey, I'm okay, too—alright? It's not as bad as it looks."</p>
<p>Clint stood aside, blocked by Cassandra in Barney's line of sight, but he'd seen his brother enter the room. He felt the anger in his gut that was always there—but it was quieter, dampened down by an obtuse mixture of shame and relief like fire retardant on his soul. It wasn't the time, Barney knew. So, he swallowed enough pride to keep it quiet.</p>
<p>When Cassandra pulled away, shuffling back a step or two, she exhaled a shaking breath. "How did this happen? Where did they find you?"</p>
<p>"I don't know—I was at home, alone, and they tripped my alarm," Barney recalled the night before, brows knitting in focus as he tried to pluck the details out of a darkened sea of jumbled memories. "There was...two- no, three."</p>
<p>"What did they look like?" she pressed.</p>
<p>He shook his head, "Two males, one female. All of them were average height. One of the guys sounded like it was personal—like he was pissed at you. I remember- the others had to tell him to stop."</p>
<p>Blood drained from Cassandra's face, leaving her skin a ghostly white. As her stomach churned, she folded her across in front of her chest, and took another step back. Clint's brows lowered, eyeing the change in demeanor with curiosity and concern. "Cass? Who is it?"</p>
<p>Her lips were unable to move. They were sealed shut by a tense jaw and grinding teeth, both anger and fear taking a strong hold of her pulse. But a voice came from behind her—"Five-eight, blonde hair, had a lighter with him?"</p>
<p>It was Bobby. His rueful, rhetorical tone and sullen features gave his knowledge away. Cassandra turned to see him with the same rueful feeling, sharing in it as their eyes met, but it only solidified as Barney answered. "Yeah," he nodded a little. "Is he a frequent flier for you guys?"</p>
<p>"He used to be one of us," Bobby explained.</p>
<p>"Until he stabbed us all in the back," Cassandra finished Bobby's sentence as she turned to face her brother once more, the sentiment hanging bitterly from her tongue. Even still, she signed the gist of it all to Clint. It was hard to remember him in such intense situations. To remember not to leave him out of the loop. Of course, he could read lips. Though, most times, he wasn't positioned properly to gather everything said and that left him at a large disadvantage in such group settings.</p>
<p>However, it was hard to keep the symbols and motions straight—all of them bouncing around the jumbled mess of her brain. She'd been bombarded with too much information, too many <em>memories</em>. The last time she'd seen John Allerdyce was at the lowest point of her relatively short life. Despite it also being part of the catalyst that sent her rebounding, it wasn't any less painful, or easier to accept.</p>
<p>"So, this guy wants revenge or something?" Clint questioned. "Why's he pissed at <em>you</em>?"</p>
<p>Cassandra exhaled through her nose. "He wanted me to be a killer <em>with </em>him, and I wouldn't. I might have actually broken his nose and let him get arrested with the other mutants at Alcatraz. But the real question here is—how did he know who Barney was? How could they even <em>find </em>him?"</p>
<p>What she didn't dare say is that his anger toward her was the product of a lover scorned. It fed her guilt too much to recall the beginnings of that domino effect—even if he did in fact choose to leave her first. It was then Barney shifted on the table, adjusting with a hiss at the protest of his wounds. "All it would take is access to a government computer and security clearance," he said. "I bet the shapeshifter did it."</p>
<p>"Shapeshifter?" Storm questioned, finally adding herself to the conversation taking place. It seemed wise to simply observe—but it was the heading in a different direction, one that might actually provide more answers than they'd been able to gather on their own.</p>
<p>"Sorry- Mystique. It's hard to remember all these names."</p>
<p>"What am I missing, Barney?" Cassandra asked, an eyebrow raised. "Why would Mystique need a government computer? How do you even know her name?"</p>
<p>Barney sighed ruefully. "Look, a lot's changed. About a year after our last conversation, I turned some things around, got on the right track. I've been an FBI agent for three years. They assigned me to the Mutant Civil Rights Task Force last year—we keep tabs on repeat offenders, like Mystique."</p>
<p>The room fell silent—each occupant at a loss for words for a different reason. Clint turned to step away, slowly following the wall as he sighed heavily, scrubbing a hand over his face. Bobby and Storm shared a knowing glance. It made a little more sense now, what they'd learned from Logan's altercation with Mystique, however vague. Though, the need for Cassandra's attention still felt pointless.</p>
<p>There was always a reason with Magneto. Always a plan in motion with too many moving parts, chaotic but balanced enough to yield results, and it was often one they didn't suspect. He'd only gotten better at operating in the shadows in his old age. Every day, he recruited new mutants, poisoned minds and convinced them his way was the <em>only </em>way.</p>
<p>Cassandra was tired. Frustrated, confused, and <em>tired</em>. It was shocking to think her brother would want to work for the government, given his past statements adamantly against that establishment. Though, it did make her question if he was put on the mutant task force for an excellent record or for the discovery of his sister's species.</p>
<p>Surely, the government already knew. How could they not? Her face had been on every news station right alongside Magneto's. She was hard to miss. Maybe her final acts against him gave her some credit? No. Certainly not. Government officials didn't work that way—she knew that too well to forget it for the sake of hollow hope. Cassandra looked at Barney in silent thought for a moment, and he remained silent, as well.</p>
<p>He could see her wheels turning, spinning, skidding, starting to slide—it was a harsh splash of cold water, he knew it would be. So, he sat quietly for that moment and waited patiently. Where else was he to go? His muscles still ached, eyes burned, and it felt like his very bones had been bruised. But, a moment was all it took. Cassandra took a step forward, regaining the step she'd lost, as seriousness firmed her features.</p>
<p>"Who else was there? Can you describe them?" she asked him.</p>
<p>Shrugging, he bobbed his head as if to say <em>yeah maybe</em>, before exhaling a deep breath. "I didn't get the best look...I couldn't really see the other guy, but the girl that was with them had dark hair, kinda thin, and she wore a lot of black. Her voice was real annoying."</p>
<p>"I know what you're thinkin' kid," Logan's voice prompted all heads in the room to turn, except Clint's, already facing his direction. Unbeknownst to Cassandra, he'd been standing beside Bobby—and now, Scott and Warren—for the last few minutes of the conversation, listening to the new information carefully. He took steps toward Cassandra. "Don't you dare fuckin' do it."</p>
<p>Cassandra fought the spiteful urge to toss her eyes and he knew it, he could see it in the twitch at the inner corners. "I'm going to take Clint home and then I'm going to get some goddamn answers."</p>
<p>"You're not gonna get much out of the peons. They're <em>insanely </em>dedicated," Bobby pointed out.</p>
<p>"I will bust as many kneecaps as I have to," Cassandra replied, her exasperated tone an octave louder than before. "John knows he can't beat me-"</p>
<p>"And if he has a mutant with him that <em>can</em>?" Logan challenged her. He was inches away now, looking down at her with stern features colored in anger-laced concern that pierced her resolved like a sharp knife. But she stared back with a clenched jaw, letting her hands fall to her sides in tight fists in an attempt to stiffen their tremble.</p>
<p>They were both incredibly stubborn—a quality that once provided them with a kind of solidarity. It was difficult, now, for Logan to see so much of himself reflected back at him in her demeanor in ways he could never explain. Not to anyone but her. "What- you want me to sit around and wait for <em>Charles </em>to call me when he thinks the time is right?" she spat the words at him with contempt. "Magneto ordered the hit, but John <em>knew </em>what he was doing. And if I know that bastard at all—he <em>volunteered</em>. If you want me to stay home, you're gonna have to fight me, Logan."</p>
<p>Logan shook his head, "I'm not gonna <em>fight </em>you, Cassandra."</p>
<p>"Then get out of my face."</p>
<p>It was then that Barney groaned, sliding off the table to stand with his bare feet against the silver flooring. The sound pulled Cassandra's eyes away, straight to her brother, and she moved quickly to support him. A palm against his back, fingers gently wrapped around his upper arm, she helped steady him as he kept a hand on the edge of the table. "Hey, hey- hold on," Cassandra spoke quickly. "You shouldn't be walking."</p>
<p>"Listen to me—I don't care how powerful you think you are, don't go after these guys alone," he told her. "He's got a point and you know it."</p>
<p>"Barney, you don't know what I can do. I'm not <em>defenseless</em>-"</p>
<p>"I know you have to go—I would, too—but take backup. Please." His head tilted slightly on his shoulders as his pleading eyes settled on hers, and she sighed heavily. Taking backup would mean relying on people who would ultimately refuse to listen to her if it came down to a crossroads between her leadership and Charles'. Or worse, her mission would be delayed at his order.</p>
<p>But, much to her dismay, Logan did have a point in the question he posed. What would she do if Magneto had employed someone above her power category? That might be a stretch, given the rarity of such high level mutants. Though, it would be just like Magneto to find one, especially for situations such as this. Agreeing to Barney's request would mean swallowing her pride—and, much stronger, her <em>anger</em>.</p>
<p>However, she knew how to navigate Logan's turbulent waters more than Charles, and she didn't have to read his mind to do it. Cassandra turned her head to see him and the others behind him, still standing a foot away with a similar expression to the serious one he held before, and his head cocked like that of an intrigued canine. "I'll do it your way on one condition—I choose who comes with me," she said.</p>
<p>Logan huffed a breath through his nostrils as he shifted his weight, adjusting his position as the tension released from his muscles. "You say that like it's my decision to make."</p>
<p>"I wasn't talking to you," Cassandra corrected him, before leaning an inch to better see Scott over his shoulder. "I choose or I go alone, Scott. Pick one."</p>
<p>Storm, Bobby, Warren, and now Logan all turned their eyes to Scott—some expectantly, some ruefully. If Scott agreed to her terms, Logan would be forced to follow them or step aside. Though, he was never one to step aside when Cassandra was involved. "That depends. Who would you take?" Scott humored her, sliding his hands into his pants pockets.</p>
<p>Cassandra squared her shoulders. "I want Bobby, Peter, Kitty, and Jubilee."</p>
<p>"That's quite the list," Logan remarked, with a raised brow.</p>
<p>"I need people I can work with, and I need power. That's who I want."</p>
<p>Scott didn't have much room to think on the issue. If he said no outright and Cassandra left the mansion, there would be a high probability of casualty. Though, he couldn't fully say yes in good conscience. So, he gave the only answer he could—"Take Clint home. I'll talk to the professor. When you come back, I'll have your answer."</p>
<p>"Fair enough," Cassandra nodded a little before turning her eyes back to her injured brother. "Rest, okay? I want you to be better when I get back, not worse."</p>
<p>Barney grumbled as though he were a disgruntled old man, adjusting his stance to better hold himself up. "I think <em>I'm </em>supposed to be saying that to <em>you</em>."</p>
<p>Reluctantly, Cassandra pulled away from him, prying her fingers from his arm in a step backward. Once again, it felt wrong—but, this time, it wasn't all encompassing. He was safe there beneath the mansion. Seeing him awake and hearing his voice added an extra ounce of reassurance, something small to warm the chill of her spine like a blanket over her shoulders.</p>
<p>Clint stepped around the end of the table, coming to stand beside them both. As Barney looked up, Clint met his eye, and the last time the men stood face to face flitted through their minds. It took shape in the form of anger and resentment. Though it felt necessary, <em>justified</em>, at the time, now it only looked ugly. "We'll talk," Clint spoke first, breaking the silence with words that meant more than their face value.</p>
<p>Barney tipped his head in a nod. The promise was nerve-wracking but welcome. However, Cassandra knew better than to let herself feel relieved—she knew better than to allow herself to think this was the end of it. Not now, at least. She needed to <em>see </em>the results to accept them. She turned to Clint and reached out a hand, fingers encircling his wrist as her eyes found his. They were questioning—a<em>re you ready?</em> His answer was a nod of his own.</p>
<p>Then, they were gone. Barney's shoulders dropped as he exhaled heavily, leaning back against the edge of the silver table. He hadn't seen her purple cloud since he was a teen. Though, that wasn't what caused him pause—this was the first time he was getting an unobstructed, detailed look at the people around him. The night before, he'd been a wild man on a desperate search with only half his wits.</p>
<p>He'd been badly beaten and his vision was doubling. Everything was spinning. Now, it all was so much clearer, the lights so much brighter. The fluorescents illuminated the features of each strange face perfectly. His eyes swept over the room, taking in the little details and basic layout of his surroundings. When they faced ahead, something caught his attention. Logan and Scott were conversing quietly—of course, not as quietly as they intended due to their shared frustrations.</p>
<p>With Logan's back to him, Barney couldn't help but feel a certain pang of déjà vu. Was it his build? Something familiar about the back of his leather jacket? Was it simply <em>him</em>? He couldn't tell, but it startled him, if anything for the slight dizziness of vague remembrance. Finally, most of the room's occupants left the room. Scott was on his way to speak with the professor, Storm and Bobby with him.</p>
<p>Logan stood still a moment longer as anger flushed through his veins, along his metal bones. Today was not his day. No one would listen to him—though, that wasn't an uncommon occurrence. However, Cassandra used to listen to him quite often, even sharing his ideals on most matters before he'd spoken them. Letting her face someone like Magneto without him felt horribly wrong.</p>
<p>He wasn't sure how much help he would be, given Magneto's proclivity for manipulating his very skeleton, but the idea of standing by as it all took place was terrifying. Though, after a moment, he could feel Barney's eyes. Logan raised an eyebrow over his shoulder, teeth bared from the prior conversation and his all-encompassing thoughts of rage.</p>
<p>It was then that Barney knew. He swallowed thickly, adjusting his position once more to square his shoulders, something to give himself a false sense of confidence. With an uncertain, however rhetorical voice, he asked, "Have we met before?"</p>
<p>Logan's vicious expression faltered. Images flashed before his eyes—sweet memories, gentle and delicate like a leaf between the pages of a book, holding his place. A woman with dark hair. Blue eyes. Her smile, her laugh. A farmhouse in autumn. Wood smoke, apples. They were things he'd kept to himself, slowly remembering more than just things. More so, how they made him <em>feel</em>.</p>
<p>He couldn't answer such a question. Of course, he had the ability to. But he couldn't. He couldn't do such a thing to Cassandra—<em>his</em> Cassandra—he <em>couldn't</em>. It would only stoke the flames of the day's fire and she needed now more than ever to stay focused. However, in his mind, he whispered—<em>a long time ago, kid</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. because you couldn't</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clint and Cassandra appeared by the front porch steps of Clint's house. It had only been one, two hours at maximum, but it felt like so much <em>longer</em>. Clint's limbs were heavy, head slightly pressurized like he hadn't slept in days. The rate at which his brain was trying to process the last few hours was slowing the rest of him down. Added onto that, was the knowledge that his sister was about to do something dangerous. There was a risk that the moment she left, she wouldn't come back.</p>
<p>His brain couldn't decide which of the many topics of thought were most important, so they hit him all at once—mixing the confusion and terror into a poisonous cocktail that quickened his pulse and weakened his resolve. "Don't take this the wrong way, Cass," immediately, he turned to face Cassandra, finding her eyes. "But- this is <em>insane</em>. You know this is crazy, don't you? Tell me you're gonna make a plan."</p>
<p>Cassandra sighed. Of course it sounded insane—though, it wasn't as uncommon for her as it was for him. Events like this made up her life since she was eight years old. There was always a fight, always a mission, always a risk. <em>Always</em>. It was only a small part of why she left the school years ago, but being involved again only made her realize it should've been a much bigger one.</p>
<p>"Yeah, I know. We'll plan. I'll call when I've got some answers," she replied as she stepped back, her voice hollow with the distance of her mind.</p>
<p>"So, that's it? Am I supposed to just wait by the phone and do nothing?"</p>
<p>It was understandable, his response. Though, Cassandra didn't know how to answer it, not in a way that would satisfy him. Every option sounded wrong. Everything was wrong. "You have a family here, Clint. I can't risk you getting hurt," she shook her head. "You're all safe here. I promise. Don't follow me."</p>
<p>Fingers curled into fists, she disappeared before his eyes, wisps of smoke dancing in the afternoon breeze.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Scott glared at the professor through the dark lenses perched atop his nose as he exhaled a heavy sigh. Allowing Cassandra to go after Magneto, even just for questioning, was the least intelligent option. It was too personal for her. Letting her go with team members but without leadership was very closely the second least intelligent option. And, somehow, Logan agreed with him.</p>
<p>It was a rarity for the pair. Usually, they were subtly or otherwise at odds, disagreeing and bickering wherever possible. Though, when it came time for danger, they always set it aside. Now seemed as dangerous a time as any to Logan. So, he stood with Scott before the professor's desk, and the two took turns pleading their cases. Charles sat quietly as he listened to their concerns thoroughly—despite having already come to a decision himself.</p>
<p>"She's not the Cass we knew anymore, Professor," Scott said, however bitterly. "She's reckless and stubborn, and she's bound to get somebody killed. Who's to say she won't find one of Magneto's mutants and kill them herself? Or, she'll get the information she needs and keep us out of the loop?"</p>
<p>Logan snorted. "Yeah, she's reckless and stubborn as all hell. She always has been. But what you're talkin' about is pretty overboard, don't ya think?"</p>
<p>Scott's head snapped in Logan's direction, and the Wolverine could feel the heat behind those glasses. "I thought you were on my side."</p>
<p>"I <em>am</em>. But this isn't some criminal, Scott—it's Cassandra. She's hurt, and angry, and she wants answers," Logan defended his words—defended <em>her</em>—without hesitation. "<em>I'm</em> worried she'll get hurt. You're just being a <em>dick </em>to get what you want."</p>
<p>Callously, Scott huffed a chuckle as he shook his head. "Of course. It's not like you're the most biased person in the mansion."</p>
<p>"And you're not? You guys practically <em>raised </em>her."</p>
<p>"Only because <em>you </em>couldn't."</p>
<p>Logan's hands gripped the front of Scott's shirt and yanked, forcing Scott forward two stumbling steps. Rage coursed through Logan's veins as more images danced before his eyes. This time—<em>ideas</em>. Thoughts of what his life could've been like, what it <em>should've </em>been like. However, cruelly, it was none of those things.</p>
<p>Hurt collided with his rage to add a deadly substance to the grievances against his teammate. "Listen closely, bub," his voice lowered, the heat from his eyes almost more lethal than the beams threatening to release from Scott's. "I'm only gonna say this once—you don't know what the fuck you're talkin' about. So <em>fuck off.</em>"</p>
<p>It was then that the professor had decided he heard enough. He turned his chair and began a path around the end of his desk, traveling toward the two men. "<em>Alright</em>. I truly understand the concern—however, I must urge you to let her lead this mission," he said, calmly.</p>
<p>Reluctantly, Logan released Scott's shirt from his grip. Scott's feet backed quickly as he looked at the professor with confusion, "You <em>can't </em>be serious." Surely, the professor of all people would know what trouble she might cause, what harm. He would know her mental state was unfit for something like this. That it would not help their cause.</p>
<p>"This is something, quite frankly, she needs more than we do," the professor continued, stopping himself beside them. "I fear that too much resistance may lead to more danger than if we simply let her discover this for herself. She is in a delicate spot as of late, as are we all. I trust that Bobby will keep her grounded should the need arise."</p>
<p>It wasn't quite that Logan disagreed with the professor's sentiments—more that a sentiment was all it was. That was largely how he and Scott differed in their motives. Logan wanted to go with her, if anything, simply to do all he could to ensure her safety. Scott wanted to go in order to stifle her efforts, to keep a hand on a steering wheel that didn't necessarily need guidance.</p>
<p><em>That </em>is what the professor knew. Though, he also knew it best both men stay right where they were. Cassandra's form materialized near the closed door of Charles' office, just feet away from the three of them. Already facing her directly, Charles smiled as he regarded her. "Welcome back, Cassandra," he said. "It's been decided. You will lead a primarily <em>reconnaissance </em>mission to investigate the attack on your brother. The team members you requested are getting ready downstairs."</p>
<p>Cassandra blinked silently. That couldn't be it, could it? How could they have agreed to let her do this? She'd expected some resistance, some push-back. Though, she was grateful for the decision. Her eyes flitted from the professor's up to Logan's. His features were drawn, shoulders tensed—he was angry. Scott looked downright ruffled, refusing to look in her direction—or Logan's—as he breathed a bit heavily.</p>
<p>What had happened? Clearly, there'd been push-back, just not toward <em>her</em>. It was almost worse, in a sense, to know they disagreed about her and chose to keep it between themselves, rather than outright denying her. The thought was like something sharp sunken into her rib cage. Still, she nodded as she looked again at the professor. "Mind if I borrow a suit?" she asked, swallowing an anxious nerve.</p>
<p>"Help yourself," Charles agreed with a singular nod.</p>
<p>Quickly, she was gone, reappearing in the silver room of hanging leather suits she'd been standing in not two hours ago. The concept of putting on her old suit was a bittersweet one. She questioned whether it would even still fit as her fingers carefully lifted it from its place. The leather unfolded rapidly with gravity, unfurling to reveal its full size.</p>
<p><em>How did I get here?</em> she asked herself. <em>How has it come to this?</em></p>
<p>She moved with a quickened pace to undress and step into it, but her mind was much slower—leaving her with a nauseous feeling of slow-motion. It was her hands sliding into the sleeves, her fingers pulling the zipper to her collar bones, her skin against the cold material. Though, none of it felt like it belonged to her at all. At least, not for a very long time.</p>
<p>Cassandra tied her now dry hair up into a ponytail to keep it out of her face as she exited the somewhat small room. It was something she'd done upon every other exit. And, as her feet crossed an invisible line in the doorway, she felt every past experience at once. All the times she was angry, or sad, or anxious. At different heights, different ages. It was <em>dizzying</em>.</p>
<p>Then, her front collided with something hard. Knocked off balance by the hit, she stumbled to the right, and she could feel hands gripping her upper arms to steady her before her eyes even looked up. But, as they finally did, they softened upon meeting a pair of golden irises. "Ah, Cassie!" Kurt was surprised by the sudden nature of their encounter, though he knew to expect to see her somewhere downstairs. "Forgive me, I was not watching where I was going."</p>
<p>"No, no...that was on me. My head's in about a million different places," she shook her head quickly, stepping back from him.</p>
<p>Her arms slipped easily from his hands, immediately moving to cross over her chest in a subconsciously defensive measure. Kurt nodded slowly as his eyes caught sight of the differences in her features. They had aged, though her eyes remained exactly the same—a fact that caused a dull ache in the center of his chest. "Your hair, the color looks good on you," he said, speaking kindly through the subtle pain.</p>
<p>She gave a small smile, teeth hidden behind lips pressed thin. "Thanks."</p>
<p>It was difficult to find words. The thought of seeming cold was hurtful but her guilt was hard to hide beneath an empty smile, one she knew he would see right through. There was a time when he was the only one capable of telling the difference. He'd waded through the fake, through the gestures and expressions made for appearances gleefully when it meant he'd find <em>her </em>on the other side.</p>
<p>Now, the same face was making the same faux expression, but he wasn't sure just what he would find. She hadn't come back to stay, he knew. She came back for a visit of necessity. So, it was easy to assume she hadn't changed the mind she'd made up prior to leaving them all for the city. Though, before the conversation could continue, it was interrupted by the appearance of a very tall man over Kurt's shoulder—a sight that caught Cassandra's eye almost immediately.</p>
<p>It was <em>Peter</em>. He turned a corner in the hall, walking toward them with Bobby and Jubilee at his sides. The interruption was a cowardly relief on its own. But, with the interruption being another set of positively familiar faces, it was a little more of a genuine distraction. As they approached, the group noticed the two standing in the hall. "Well, look who it is," Peter's smile was infectious, tugging at Cassandra's lips the second his voice touched her ears. "Heard someone placed a special order?"</p>
<p>"You bet your ass I did," Cassandra quipped in reply. Kurt stepped aside, slipping into the doorway of the dressing room, to make space for the others to say their 'hello's. It was hard not to notice it, a pang of guilt hitting hard against Cassandra's bones. But she swallowed hard and fought to keep her smile intact in silence.</p>
<p>Peter Rasputin—affectionately referred to as Pete amongst the younger members, and sometimes Logan—was a towering six feet, seven inches. When compared to the five feet, three inches of Cassandra's frame, he was practically a giant. Though, the difference only made it fun to become friends. Once they'd discovered they could work very well together in the danger room, they started spending more time together casually, and they came to each hold a special place within the others' heart.</p>
<p>His stride naturally a bit longer, he used it to his advantage to arrive near Cassandra first. It was quite a bend, but he leaned down as he opened his arms, wrapping them around her small frame. Then, he stood upright—lifting her up with him. It managed to squeeze a genuine laugh from her throat as she quickly slung her arms around his neck to hold on, her legs dangling below. "It's so good to see you home, Cass," he said, as he gently set her back on her feet.</p>
<p>"It's good to see you, too," she agreed with a nod. Then, her eyes shifted to Jubilee, now beside Peter once more. "Both of you."</p>
<p>"I'm really sorry your brother got dragged into this," Jubilee tilted her head, tone apologetic as her eyes reflected empathy beneath the fluorescents.</p>
<p>Peter asked, then, "I heard he's awake now. How's he doing?"</p>
<p>"Jesus Christ…" the male voice from behind her sent a chill racing along Cassandra's spine. As she turned on her heels rather quickly, <em>Barney </em>came into view, standing several feet away in the hall. Eyes slightly rounded, features flattened out in disbelief and mild disgust, he held up a hand. "Someone tell me it's the concussion."</p>
<p>Cassandra fought to withhold an eye roll from the sheer nature of the comment, but began walking toward him swiftly. "Has no one <em>told you</em> that you're supposed to be resting?" she countered him with a question dripping of concerned frustration.</p>
<p>Barney was black and blue, the bruises highlighted harshly under the unflattering angles of the bright lights, but he could stand on his own now. Though, it did hurt considerably despite the pain medications he was given. He had seen a few of the more prominent, more public X-Men here and there during briefings. They were a kind of illusive creature, as a unicorn to the artists of the Middle Ages.</p>
<p>Seeing his sister dressed as one—his physical and psychological state unhelpful—was like seeing a unicorn up close for the first time, but they were next to a volcano while birds chirped in his ears, and the absurdity of the situation was causing his head to spin. "And miss all <em>this</em>?" he questioned, drunkenly sarcastic as he gestured toward her suit with both hands. Then, he looked over her shoulder as she stood before him. "Who're your friends?"</p>
<p>Cassandra sighed and wrapped her fingers around his wrist before picking up the limb, sidling against his ribs as she pulled the arm over her shoulders. "If you agree to lay down, I'll introduce you."</p>
<p>"You drive a hard bargain. Let's do it."</p>
<p>Now, she did roll her eyes—however, this time, it was more playful, more humored by the clearly out-of-sorts state of her older brother. If there was a serious, hot-head of their siblings, it was Barney. To witness him act as though he'd had one too many was indeed funny regardless of the circumstances. After all, the alternative to laughing was simply to cry.</p>
<p>So, instead, she carefully guided him toward the other X-Men by the dressing room, bringing him to the spot she stood before. He leaned against her shoulder as he shuffled along with her, though he appeared undeterred. "Guys, this is my oldest brother, Barney," Cassandra said, glancing around at the others. "Barney, this is—left to right—Kurt, Bobby, Peter, and Jubilee. I'm sure Kitty will be-"</p>
<p>As if her name spoke her into existence, Kitty materialized through the wall beside the group. She paused quickly, eyes shifting between Cassandra and the others as her expression fell into a mixture of uncertainty and curiosity. "Uh, hey guys. What did I miss?" she questioned, to no one in particular.</p>
<p>Cassandra gestured toward the newly arrived member. "And this is Kitty. Kitty, this is my brother, Barney. He's a little out of his mind right now, so I'm being humane. I'll take him back to the med room and then we can all talk."</p>
<p>Kitty nodded with a small chuckle. "Oh, got it," she replied. Then, she gave a small wave to Barney, "Hello. It's nice to meet you. I hope you feel better soon."</p>
<p>"Thanks, kid. I appreciate it," Barney tipped his head to Kitty.</p>
<p>Cassandra tightened her arm across his back as she began to guide him in a turn-around. But, the eldest Barton sibling regained his weight, refraining from leaning against her to stop turning just short of facing the other direction. Instead, he turned more toward the group to better see them. "Hey, don't let my sister do anything stupid," he said, looking between them all, before pointing a finger at Peter. "I'm lookin' at <em>you</em>, big guy-"</p>
<p>His words were interrupted by Cassandra's hand maneuvering up to pull down his fingers, shifting her weight to better pull him away. "Don't worry, we've got her back. Rest easy," Bobby spoke up, giving a confident nod.</p>
<p>Barney only returned the nod and allowed himself to be swept away as his sister turned him around, this time successfully. She guided him back down the hallway he'd come from and along the silver flooring to the table he'd prematurely descended from. All the while he hissed and groaned and muttered beneath his breath, and a spiteful thought crossed Cassandra's mind—<em>maybe if you had listened to me, it wouldn't hurt?</em></p>
<p>But that was cruel. His sounds of discomfort were truly agonizing, further growing the lump in her throat she had cleared out with the brute force of her stubborn will, and the guilt she harbored was close to reaching its peak. Was it not in pursuit of her that this was done to him? There was a wrestle, a tug-of-war between self-destruction and reason in her mind. Though, despite it, she helped ease him back onto the table with careful hands.</p>
<p>"Stay here and rest until I come back, okay?" she told him. "If something happens before that—call me."</p>
<hr/>
<p>It was late in the afternoon when Cassandra appeared on the front walkway leading to Barney's front door. Those she'd brought with her stood at her sides. Their boots crushed the grass hedging the concrete, the sprinklers amongst the blades spitting small droplets far enough to freckle their leather suits.</p>
<p>The house was small but decently sized, and oddly suburban. It clashed with the character she thought her brother to possess—though, at the same time, she knew there were too many things she didn't know about him anymore for this kind of dwelling not to fit. After all, he chose it, didn't he? The lawn was sculpted, small flower beds free of weeds and intelligently designed, the siding free of dirt or cobwebs. It was all so well taken care of.</p>
<p>Absentmindedly, Cassandra started toward the front door. It was left open, hanging ajar from the rush to depart the night prior. As she got closer, stepping up onto the concrete slab of a front porch, red was visible on the large, silver handle. She assumed it belonged to Barney, most likely smeared on the metal in his quick exit. Reaching up a hand, her fingers carefully nudged the door open further, eliciting a quiet whine of the hinges as it allowed them all access.</p>
<p>Bobby, Kitty, Peter, and Jubilee all filed in behind Cassandra as she entered the home. It was best not to leave anyone lingering outside. The sight of an X-Man, or simply a mutant at all, would only prompt a call to the police. So, they tucked themselves inside the door—but Kitty remained near it as she left it open just enough to see the front lawn, keeping a watchful eye.</p>
<p>The interior did not match the well-kept appearance of the exterior, betraying its first impression with a kitchen sink full of dishes, plates and a lone bowl left beside it on the counter, the carpet in strong need of a vacuum, and dust layering every partially unused surface. It didn't help that the dining table was misshapen, one of its legs broken in half to force the furniture to kneel. Glass littered the hardwood of the dining area just past the kitchen, on the left—clearly remnants of a vase that was home to the petals and stems crushed against the flooring.</p>
<p>To the right, following the wall all the way to the far corner, was a living area. The couch was alright, though one of the matching chairs was turned over on it's side. A frame remained for a coffee table in the center, its glass surface broken through, hiding in the carpet below. Even a few frames on the walls were now either on the floor or hanging at an uncomfortable angle. "Jesus…" Bobby muttered, standing next to the dining table as his eyes moved toward the living area.</p>
<p>Cassandra stepped lightly toward the broken coffee table, eyes fixated on the red-coated glass shards still fastened to the empty frame. It was perplexing to see such a gruesome mess. To her knowledge, Barney didn't have wounds to match this kind of injury. Who had been thrust into the glass table? Was it truly Barney? Was it John? One of the other mutants with him?</p>
<p>Peter followed her into the living room, though kept a distance as he surveyed the damage. "What are you thinking?"</p>
<p>"I'm not sure," she shook her head with a sigh. "You all saw him—did Barney look like he was pushed into a glass table to you?"</p>
<p>"I mean, he looked pretty bad, but more like someone used their <em>fists</em>," Bobby chimed in as he, too, entered the living room.</p>
<p>Lips pulled tight as her brows knitted in thought, Cassandra turned around to see the others. She wondered, then, did Barney truly have the strength for that? As an FBI agent, he would've had to go through the rigorous training at the academy, so it would make sense to assume he wasn't totally defenseless. Though, it did entirely depend on which mutant he attempted to fight.</p>
<p>Considering they had no information on who the others were, it was difficult to even guess. Suddenly, the creak of a floorboard touched Cassandra's ears, sending a shuddering bolt of adrenaline through her veins. Her eyes widened with surprise as they quickly flitted to each of her teammates—but they were all doing the same. Quietly, Peter raised a finger, aiming it toward the ceiling. <em>Upstairs</em>.</p>
<p>Cassandra moved quickly, taking light steps to the dining room in order to look at Kitty, still standing by the front door. She shook her head, signaling no new arrival to the house. Cassandra didn't hesitate to then rush to the stairs just off the entrance. Bobby hurried from the living room to follow her, only a few steps behind as they ascended. They made virtually no sound as they reached the top.</p>
<p>The upstairs was a small, short hallway between two rooms and a bathroom between them, all their doors hung open and untouched. Cassandra paused at the top to let Bobby catch up. When he did, she quietly pointed toward the master bedroom, on the right. She pointed to herself and then to the left, and the pair shared a nod. They would split up to investigate. It wasn't a far-fetched idea, given that they were both capable enough to handle an attack on their own.</p>
<p>Their powers were reactive, explosive—excellent for defense <em>and </em>offense. Cassandra's fingers slowly, carefully worked at the leather of her right hand as she started down the small hallway to the left, stepping across Bobby's path as they traded routes. Subconsciously, she wanted someone to be waiting. She wanted to fight them, to finally have a reason to release her anger, her pent-up energy. However, she was unaware of her own motive, too caught up in the hunt to notice the heat swelling against her palm.</p>
<p>She peered into the bathroom, sidling against the door frame, but it was empty. Even with the light off, she could tell the small room was vacant. So, she continued. Her feet carried her, however cautiously, to the guest room at the end of the hallway. It was then that an oddly familiar, yet indescribable sound caught her attention. The sound came from beyond the doorway, drawing her closer as she pressed her back against the wall beside the open door.</p>
<p>Slowly, she leaned forward enough to get a glance inside the room. The glimpse she gathered was enough to stop her lungs. A man sat on the floor on the other side of the room, partially hidden by the end of the bed. His back was against the wall, face flushed almost completely pale, with an arm tight around his middle. Although, it wasn't his physical state as much as it was his identity.</p>
<p>"<em>John</em>?"</p>
<p>He perked up almost instantly, eyes moving quickly to the doorway. "<em>Cass</em>?" he questioned, voice weakened beneath its tone of disbelief. He barked a slightly deranged laugh as he tipped his head back against the wall, "I guess the carrier pigeon did its job."</p>
<p>Cassandra stepped out from behind the door with a hand risen, ready for whatever he might try, but John remained still on the carpeted floor. "What the fuck are you still doing here? Honestly, I didn't think you were <em>this </em>stupid."</p>
<p>"Well, you know. The sweet release of death."</p>
<p>"What are you talking-" she stopped herself instinctively, instead walking to the end of the bed to gain a better view. Sure enough, a large circle of blood had soaked into the carpet beneath his right side, even more of the red liquid slowly slipped through the cracks between his fingers, hand clamped over a spot on the right side of his torso. It clicked then in her mind. "You were thrown into the coffee table."</p>
<p>He exhaled, briefly closing his eyes. "Nothing gets past <em>you</em>, does it?"</p>
<p>"Cass?"</p>
<p>Cassandra's head turned quickly as Bobby's voice came from behind. He'd just reached the doorway, cautiously stepping into the room as he leaned to see over her shoulder, features etched with concern. His face fell when he realized just what she was looking at. Just what this situation was. But John grinned, lips parting to display the blood in his teeth. "Well, well, well. Look at us—all three washed up Musketeers in one room," he coughed hoarsely. "What's up, Vanilla Ice?"</p>
<p>"We can't just let him die," Bobby told Cassandra. His voice was small, quiet, and defeated. Every time his eyes left her face, a pang of guilt hit his chest. Yes, John betrayed them, abandoned them—and now he was someone neither recognized. But he was still once their <em>friend</em>. Each had loved him in their own ways.</p>
<p>Cassandra gave a shake of her head. "I wasn't going to. We need what he knows."</p>
<p>Bobby's head tilted, features contorting into an expression easily readable—<em>really?</em>—and Cassandra sighed heavily. "Not like that," she corrected him. "We'll take him back to the mansion, see what they can do for him."</p>
<p>"Cass? Bobby? You guys okay?"</p>
<p>Jubilee's voice echoed up the staircase as she hopped up the steps, quick to reach the top in case of an emergency scenario. But Bobby stepped halfway into the hall and waved away the worry. "We're good—we found John," he told her. Her eyebrows popped on her forehead, walking the short length of the hall to join him by the door.</p>
<p>Cassandra moved closer to John by the wall and crouched, eyes lingering on the blood trailing along the backs of his fingers. "Was it worth it, attacking my brother?" she questioned, stoic as her emotions conflicted.</p>
<p>Under other circumstances, she would feel sorry for him. Maybe she would even feel hurt, or worry, to see him injured after all the memories they shared. Instead, she only felt <em>anger</em>. John chuckled weakly, "You think that powerless dipshit did this? Give me a break."</p>
<p>"Then <em>who</em>?" she raised an eyebrow.</p>
<p>"Sabretooth."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. mutant killers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was no denying that his injuries would prevent them from getting John down the stairs to the first level. So, the group agreed that Cassandra would take him and Bobby straight to the mansion and be back as fast as she could. If anyone was able to keep John in check, it was Bobby—and he'd more than proven it during their last altercation.</p><p>Cassandra took them to the halls beneath the mansion. The three of them appeared just outside the infirmary, her purple cloud placing them in Storm and Scott's path, on their way to the same place. It was startling, to say the least. However, it was more concerning than anything else. "Oh my god," Scott hurried forward as Cassandra's head turned to look in his direction. "What did you do?"</p><p>"Cass didn't <em>do </em>anything," Bobby replied, tone subtly venomous. Scott's words were not only <em>confusing</em>, but the accusation was unfounded and cruel. Though, Bobby still supported John, Cassandra only stepping away once he had a firm hold on the dish towel they pressed to John's largest wound.</p><p>Storm held back any words that came to mind to reprimand Scott's foolish, insensitive comment, and hurried to John's other side to help Bobby hold him up. The reprimand would come later. "Let's get him on a table," she told Bobby, with a quick nod. "I'll do the best I can."</p><p>"Thank you." Cassandra tipped her head, and Storm returned the gesture. Then, she and Bobby were entering the infirmary, shuffling John along against the half-lucid protests and complaints he mumbled. Cassandra glanced at Scott who stood three feet to her left, jaw clamped shut as he resigned himself from the conversation. "I'm going back to join the others," she told him, a sour taste on her tongue. "If you get in the way of John's treatment, or hinder this mission, I'll gut you. No powers needed."</p><p>"Don't worry, I'm not go-"</p><p>His words stopped mid-sentence as she disappeared before him. It had never been his intention to further distance himself from her, or to carry on as though she were some kind of dangerous weapon to be controlled. Still, somehow it always came to those conclusions. Scott truly did care for her. He'd known her since she was quite young.</p><p>However, something happened internally when Jean died. She was the love of his life, and she was far more attached to Cassandra than he had ever been, and he knew that something about the sight of her after that loss only forced him to shut his eyes. To look away, to turn his back, to emotionally separate himself. It was far too painful to hear her voice and see her face, and only remember the times they'd all spent together.</p><p>He'd locked himself in his room as he grieved and, in more ways than one, he'd also locked the door to his heart. It bred resentment within Cassandra that could not be quenched. She was equally as affected by Jean's death, yet she could not mourn with the one person just as in pain. Instead, there was Logan. He came to her room often, asked her how she was doing, <em>listened </em>to her replies.</p><p>Sometimes, there was no talking or listening to be done at all—only <em>crying</em>. Scott Summers had not been the same since the tragic loss of Jean Grey and neither had Cassandra Barton, though it seemed Scott only left an allowance for himself in that matter. Added to that, the events of the Alcatraz assault only worsened her image within the ranks of the X-Men. Especially with the likes of Scott.</p><p>It only worsened her mental state, the total sum of her shortcomings forcing her hand, pushing her to leave the mansion permanently. Though, it was unlikely Scott knew just how he had affected Cassandra and her choices following his departure from her emotionally. After all, the last thing you should do to a person with fears of abandonment is to, put rather simply, <em>abandon them</em>.</p><hr/><p>With their team down one member—and an important one, at that—they needed to tread carefully. Cassandra rejoined the others at Barney's house, and the group moved to the living room to deliberate. "I'm not sure how or why, but <em>if </em>Sabretooth is actually involved, we shouldn't keep going," Kitty said, primarily eyeing Cassandra.</p><p>"I know," Cassandra exhaled a heavy breath through her nostrils. "We have John, but who knows if he'll pull through or even give us real information. I'm going to have to cut my losses and go alone for the rest of this mission."</p><p>Jubilee swiftly protested, "Whoa, slow down. No one is ditching you. We're all in this, Cass. If you're going to take the fight straight to Magneto, <em>we </em>come with you."</p><p>"I appreciate the sentiment, but I can't take <em>any </em>of you. Sabretooth is working with Magneto and Magneto is clearly willing to use him to cut out the weak links. If he's with Magneto right now—I can't <em>guarantee </em>anyone's safety-"</p><p>"<em>We</em> can look out for ourselves," Peter reassured her. His voice drew her uncertain eyes, and he gave a firm nod. "Take us with you."</p><p><em>Leave it to the man with metal skin</em>, she thought. With a heavy sigh, she glanced at each of them in turn, eyes searching for an agreement or an objection. Jubilee gave a nod of agreement the second she was within view. Kitty, however hesitant, nodded quickly upon her turn. Though Cassandra was the only objection, she was in fact the leader.</p><p>Every fiber of her being screamed, calling out to her, begging her to leave without them regardless. It was the smart thing to do, wasn't it? To cut out the middlemen, to limit casualties as much as possible? It was certainly what <em>Logan </em>would do. Although, she wasn't sure if she ever considered him necessarily smart in that respect.</p><p>Despite the indecision, she nodded as well, reaching out her hands for the others to take. It was only fitting that she embarked on this hazardous quest with almost all the members of her original friend group. They'd all gone through the same classes, shared the same highs and lows, raised together as mutants. Those who couldn't reach her skin, held onto those who could. Then, Cassandra jumped.</p><p>The five of them teleported to an empty, dimly lit corridor with walls and flooring carved straight out of rock. Cassandra had only been to this exact spot once before and hadn't wished to ever return. There was something inherently sinister about its construction that ran a shiver down her spine, the sensation accompanying the rush of adrenaline from the sudden course of action.</p><p>As the others let go of her, she spoke quietly. "There weren't cameras last time I was here, but just assume they already know we're here," she said, glancing around the small group. Then, her hand found the <em>X </em>emblem of her suit and twisted, dislodging it. "I want all of you to keep out of sight unless there's danger—no arguing. If I need you, I'll start screaming. Understand? I'm gonna try to get what we need before Sabretooth smells you out."</p><p>Peter and Jubilee exchanged concerned looks as Cassandra handed the silver <em>X</em> to Kitty. Kitty was hesitant, but she took it with a small nod. "What are you going to do?" Peter asked Cassandra.</p><p>Taking a step back, she gave a small shrug, "Find Magneto and ask him what the fuck he wants."</p><p>"Be careful," he told her. "And, tell us you need help <em>before </em>you have to scream."</p><p>Cassandra wasn't sure if she would be able to without giving them away. But, she nodded, and turned away from them. The last time she was here, she had taken Magneto's side for the sake of necessity, and she hadn't done much exploring. Her feet carried her to the end of the long hallway, inching close to the corner in order to sneak a peek around it, but her heart was beating so quickly within her chest she couldn't hear anything else.</p><p>The hall ended at a junction, a large and rounded room connecting the multiple hallways of Magneto's secret hideaway. She wasn't quite sure the villain even used this lair anymore. It appeared empty as she glanced around the corner, eyeing the hallway she knew lead to Magneto's study—if you could call it that. Still, she waited a moment longer. Waited for someone to show their face.</p><p>Surely it would be Mystique, maybe even that slimy Toad. However, no such person came. Her eyes darted up to the ceiling, the corners of the room, in search for cameras. There were none. Had Magneto truly abandoned this place? Cassandra couldn't afford to take any chances. So, she teleported across the room, into the other hallway, to eliminate any possibility of discovery.</p><p>Her fingers tugged off her other glove before shoving the leather into a pocket as she took light steps toward the study. Anticipation was building as she approached the open entrance, heat traveling to her palms and coursing through her fingers, veins in her wrists white hot. There was nothing to fear, she knew. After all, she had bested him before, and nothing was stopping her from doing it again. Still, she was cautious and careful with every placement of her feet.</p><p>When she reached the entrance, her back touched the rough surface of the corridor wall. Slowly, she leaned in, moving only far enough to get her eyes past the edge of the carved rock. Near the back of the room was a silver desk, bookcases lining the wall behind it. To the far left, a fireplace and a cushioned chair. There had been some additions since her last visit, which only prompted her belief that it was still in use.</p><p>Why would he make this place more livable as she'd suggested long ago if no one were to live here? It was when her eyes focused on the chair by the fireplace, the embers in the ash heap twinkling like faint stars, that she could see the top of a head poking above the backing.</p><p>"Come in, child."</p><p>The familiarity of Magneto's voice pierced through the jolt of surprise from the spoken words. There was a deep, hollow <em>clap</em>—the sound of a book closing as the old mutant eased himself up out of the chair and to his feet. He tucked the book beneath his arm as he took slow steps around the chair, walking toward the bookshelves.</p><p>Cassandra swallowed thickly as she moved out from the shadows, into the large and open space of his study. Magneto tucked the book away on one of the shelves and turned to face her. His age betrayed him—skin heavy beneath his eyes, spotted by the sun. If she didn't know any better, she could almost look at him and see nothing other than an old man in seclusion.</p><p>"Welcome back, Cassandra," he greeted her, as he walked to his desk. "I assume you're here because you received my message?"</p><p>"Loud and clear."</p><p>She took three more steps before stopping herself, keeping a safe distance. Magneto lowered himself into the rolling chair behind his desk and exhaled heavily. "Whatever you think is my reasoning—forget it. This goes much further beyond the two of us."</p><p>"Then, explain it to me," Cassandra's eyebrow raised, her nails digging half moons into the skin of her palms. "What was so important you had to beat my brother half to death and nearly kill John?"</p><p>Magneto pulled onto a drawer within the desk and reached inside, before pulling out a handful of manila folders, each filled with papers and photographs. He tossed them onto the desk's surface as he spoke. "Are you familiar with the name Bolivar Trask? He was the CEO of Trask Industries. Don't be shy, dear. Take a long look."</p><p>"'Was'?"</p><p>Cassandra walked forward, keeping an eye on Magneto as she approached the desk. Her hand reached out, fingers grasping the first folder on the stack, and she picked it up to better view its contents. "He's dead, as he deserved," Magneto clarified. Then, he continued, "He was working on a project before he died that has been in production ever since. He wanted to build <em>Sentinels</em>—robots with the abilities necessary to hunt us down and kill us."</p><p>"Sounds like a peach," she replied, half-heartedly.</p><p>Her focus was on what she was looking at, the pictures within the folder in her hands. They were autopsy photos. Various, unfamiliar faces belonging to dead mutants. "Thanks to Mystique—with no help from your friend Logan—we were able to obtain proof that the government has continued with the project, going so far as to begin weapons tests on newer models," Magneto told her. "They've built their first prototypes in a facility in California."</p><p>Cassandra's fingers carefully sifted through the photos within the folder—but it was then she noticed they'd begun to shake. It turned her stomach sour. The concept of the United States government illegally detaining and experimenting on mutant citizens was nothing new. She'd first heard of it from one of Scott's stories. He used it as a warning, an example of why they always needed to be alert.</p><p>Really, it only gave credence to Cassandra's already-present fear that nowhere was truly safe. Not a home. Not a business. Not a <em>school</em>. And it was only hammered in by the raid on the mansion years ago. Magneto sat up in his chair to reach out, sliding a finger into one of the remaining folders to nudge it open on the desk before her. The movement caught her attention and her eyes moved eagerly away from the gruesome images.</p><p>"The facility is owned by Stark Industries," he said, as an aerial photo of the building sat atop the paperwork it accompanied on the desk. "They have a contract with the government to produce these mutant-killers."</p><p>Carefully, Cassandra folded the file she held closed and placed it on the desk, before reaching for the aerial photo. "<em>Stark</em>? As in <em>Tony </em>Stark? The bastard billionaire that flies around in that god awful tin can?"</p><p>Magneto nodded. "I wasn't surprised either."</p><p>The building in the photo was rather large, with a proportionately-sized set of five letters on the side, visible from the camera angle. <em>Stark</em>. "So, Stark Industries is building government-commissioned, mutant-killing robots and you decided the best way to get in contact with me was to attack my brother?" Cassandra's eyes moved from the photo to Magneto's time-worn face.</p><p>"Can you truly stand there, look me in the eye, and tell me you would've listened to anything else?"</p><p>No. She <em>couldn't</em>. Magneto was right—any attempt at contact would have been dismissed, shunned, avoided at all costs. He was the last person she wanted to be conversing with after all the ruin he'd brought to her life, regardless of circumstance. Cassandra stared down at him with a sharp glare of defeat. He only smiled, the right corner of his mouth upturned knowingly.</p><p>"If we're going to put a stop to this, we'll need all the help we can get," Magneto sat back in his chair. "That is why I'm revealing all this to you. Your <em>friends </em>think we're causing senseless mayhem, as usual. But now <em>you </em>know the truth."</p><p>Cassandra tossed the photo back onto the desk as her eyebrows drew together, knitted in confusion. "What exactly do you expect me to do?"</p><p>"My dear, you're our dynamite. We'll handle entrance and extraction—your job is simply to destroy the facility."</p><p>"I'm not blowing up a fucking warehouse," Cassandra shook her head.</p><p>"It is either that, or allow them to continue production," Magneto countered her protest, features turned deathly serious. "Once they're complete, they will release them into the world to do their jobs. And they will start right in our backyards."</p><p>"Told you she wouldn't do it. She's a pussy—just like her old man."</p><p>A deep, male voice came from behind Cassandra. It was sinister but amused, a mixture she recognized instantly as belonging to Victor Creed. <em>Sabretooth</em>. She twisted in her stance to look over her shoulder as she exhaled deeply through her nostrils. The tall man stood hunched as he leaned against the wall near the entrance to the study.</p><p>His eyes lingered on Cassandra, stalking his prey with an amused, devilish grin. Her shoulder muscles shuddered as they tensed. "Coming from a man named after a big cat. You know Saber-tooth's are <em>extinct</em>, right?" she quipped dryly, turning enough to see both men. There was a small pang of confusion by his comment about her father. Though, he was not entirely wrong, so she ignored it.</p><p>Victor pushed off the wall and sauntered forward. "Ouch. That <em>really </em>stings."</p><p>"Sabretooth, don't you think your time is better spent elsewhere, as we discussed?" Magneto questioned, sighing heavily as he rubbed a finger against his temple. The immaturity was irritating, only making the interruption stressful. Sometimes he wondered why he partnered with such incompetant, wastes of his time.</p><p>"And miss catching up with my favorite niece?" Victor tilted his head, feigning emotion as he came to a stop just feet from Cassandra.</p><p>Her eyes narrowed up at him. "What the fuck are you talking about?"</p><p>"Did Jimmy not tell you? I guess I let <em>that </em>cat out of the bag."</p><p>It was a tactic to throw her off, she knew. The only way she could be in danger is if she was unfocused. How could she focus with a bombshell such as that? It was just a tactic, she told herself. Inhaling deeply, she forced her eyes back to Magneto's face, ignoring Sabretooth altogether. "You expect me to help you when you're working with people like <em>him</em>?" she questioned the elder mutant.</p><p>"Aw, Cassie, you're gonna hurt my feelings," Victor quipped, enjoying himself all too much.</p><p>Ignoring him as well, Magneto sighed once more. "If these robots are allowed to be put to use, it won't matter whose side you're on. You'll be dead regardless. We <em>all </em>will," he told Cassandra. "Think on it overnight if you must. You know where to find me."</p><p>He suggested she think it over with a tone of disgust, contempt for the very concept of needing to deliberate. The annihilation of the mutant population was being put into motion. It wasn't much of a decision to make, in his mind. What was one facility when compared to an entire species? But Cassandra wouldn't take the time to genuinely consider it. She would use it to warn Charles of the new Sentinels, of everything she'd just learned.</p><p>After that was uncertain. Though, her initial instinct was to downright refuse and go home. To go back to her apartment and pretend none of this information had ever entered her mind. It was easier that way. It was <em>safer</em>. Cassandra gave Magneto one last glare before turning on her heels. As she took steps to pass him, Victor reached out, his fingers clenching tightly around her neck.</p><p>The action stopped her suddenly, causing her to stumble on a half step. He dragged her in front of him and tightened his grip, hefting her up to be eye-level with him with only the hand on her neck, and she sputtered. Air was caught in her throat, the skin of her face tinged a light red as her nails dug into the exposed skin of his wrist, matching the action of his nails digging into her neck. "This should give you a nice parting gift," he sneered. "Make sure to tell <em>Logan </em>you got it from your Uncle Victor."</p><p>Heat surged to her palms, inflaming her veins as a sudden burst of energy exploded from each hand. It was close to her face—<em>too close</em>—her cheeks feeling singed as Victor bellowed, letting her go to stumble backward from the force of the shot. Cassandra's feet hit the ground first, soon followed by her knees, then her palms to brace herself as she rapidly inhaled.</p><p>It was then she heard stomping, felt the rumble against the sizzling skin of her hands as Peter moved quickly toward Victor. His skin rippled as it turned silver, covering his body in metal with a distinct clinking sound. Peter's fist connected with the side of Victor's head, the hit powerful enough to send the other mutant sprawling into the wall beside the fireplace. Victor's back hit the rock with a loud crack and Cassandra instinctively grimaced.</p><p>Bobby was not far behind the metallic giant, outstretching his hand as frost spewed from his fingertips toward the desk. Ice encased the hands Magneto had placed against it, trapping them there as Kitty materialized through the floor beside Cassandra, swiftly reaching for her. "Are you okay?" she asked, quickly.</p><p>All Cassandra could do was nod, fighting a fit of hoarse coughs that burned the raw back of her throat. She could feel the tickle of blood racing down each side of her neck from the claw wounds. "Come on, let's go," Bobby said, eyes trained on Magneto. Though, Magneto only watched. There was nothing inherently wrong with them escaping unharmed. After all, that was his original plan. Any more harm to Cassandra or her X-Men would simply turn her away from his proposition.</p><p>So, Magneto sat quietly behind his desk, hands frozen to the silver. Peter backed away from Victor, who was now slowly pushing himself off the floor. Kitty stood, carefully pulling Cassandra to her feet with her, and Jubilee rushed to them from the hall. "Everyone—hands!" she exclaimed, racing toward them in a panic.</p><p>Bobby and Peter were quick to move in, reaching out to join Kitty in touching one of Cassandra's arms. Jubilee arrived a second later and, the second she touched one of them, Cassandra took them all away. The huddled group disappeared from Magneto's study in a large haze of purple smoke and sizzling sparks.</p><p>They reappeared in the infirmary. It was the room heaviest on Cassandra's mind at the time—due partly to her brother, but also her own injuries. Storm was checking Barney's vitals as he slept. Logan had come in not long before to check in and get as far away from Scott as possible within the mansion. He knew if he wasn't careful, he would snap, and actually injure him.</p><p>All was quiet, save for the soft beeping of the heart monitor, when the others arrived in smoke near the entrance. Storm startled, and Logan turned quickly on his heels—but the apprehension melted into worry as his eyes found Cassandra. She was at the middle of the huddle, supported by Kitty.</p><p>As soon as they all were safe, Bobby and Peter both let go, but stayed close to help Cassandra if necessary. Jubilee, however, ran off—she darted through the doorway and down the silver hall to the elevator, sure to leave skid marks on the pristine flooring in her wake. Though, it went mostly unnoticed. She was not the concern. <em>Cassandra </em>was.</p><p>She still coughed terribly, only pausing a moment to breathe in deeply enough to continue the hysterics of her lungs. Logan rushed across the room and reached out, hands carefully grabbing for her upper arms as he hunched to find her eyes. "Look at me, kid. Are you okay?" he questioned, adrenaline forcing his heart to pump all too fast. When she couldn't respond with but a head shake, he immediately turned to the others, "Will somebody tell me what the hell happened?"</p><p>"It was Sabretooth—she didn't want us to get involved, but he was choking her," Kitty quickly explained, a hand absentmindedly against Cassandra's shoulder blade. Partly to reassure Cassandra, but also to reassure <em>herself</em>.</p><p>Logan stood upright as he twisted to see behind him. "Storm-"</p><p>"I've got her, Logan." Storm was already hurrying over. Bobby stepped back as she slid her way into the group, wrapping an arm around the backs of Cassandra's shoulders to guide her away. Kitty finally let go, stepping back beside Peter. Though Logan knew it was going to help, it took all his self-restraint to let her go, to step back.</p><p>Cassandra shuffled along beside Storm as her lungs burned, allowing herself to be lead to another room in the infirmary. There were other tables there—including one which held an unconscious John, sleeping off the anesthetic from the extensive stitches needed to mend his wounds. But she didn't notice his proximity as Storm guided her to a table near the far wall.</p><p>Storm instructed her to take slow breaths as she moved quickly to a set of metal drawers nearby. In the third drawer down was a salve she knew would help the irritated, damaged skin on the outside of her neck. To help the inside temporarily, she grabbed a water bottle from a cabinet near Cassandra's table. She brought the items back to her and held out the water. "Sip gently," Storm instructed. "We'll get you something better in a moment."</p><p>Cassandra nodded, taking the bottle from her with a trembling hand. All her muscles shook, heart pounding in her chest, as her lungs struggled to catch up. Her head felt dizzied as well. The combination was enough to throw her off, twisting her gut in the worst way. Carefully, she worked the cap off the water bottle and lifted it to her lips. The somewhat cold water seared down her throat and she startled.</p><p>"It's alright. It hurts but it will help you catch your breath. I'm going to put this salve on your neck, okay? You'll feel better."</p><p>Again, Cassandra nodded, eyes squeezed shut as she held the bottle away from her face. Storm twisted the lid off the container from the drawers and set it aside before stepping in front of Cassandra. Gingerly, she used two fingers to bring some of the salve to Cassandra's skin, careful in her application to ease the initial discomfort. Cassandra drank more water as Storm spread the salve on her neck, and she tried to take slow breaths, but her lungs begged for more oxygen.</p><p>Her pulse was too fast, demanding far too much of her other organs, and it was threatening to drain her remaining energy. The skin crushed beneath Victor's claws was inflamed, red and beginning to swell. There were small punctures where the tips of his claws had sunken in enough to draw blood at the back. Storm found them as she moved beside Cassandra to reach more of her neck.</p><p>A quick glance told her they weren't actually deep enough to need stitches, but they needed cared for to prevent infection. Only God knew what kind of disgusting bacteria was hidden beneath Sabretooth's nails. So, she wiped off the rest of the salve and stepped back to the draws to retrieve small bandages. It was then that Logan entered the room.</p><p>He walked straight to the back where Cassandra was still carefully sipping from the bottle, Bobby not far behind him. "What can I do?" Logan asked, looking over at Storm from where he stood beside the table.</p><p>"She needs tea, hot, with a spoonful of honey. It will soothe her throat," Storm answered. She walked back to the cabinet to find the antiseptic and cotton swabs.</p><p>Bobby spoke up then, stepping up beside Logan, "I'll go, you stay with her." Logan eyed Bobby a second but, ultimately, he conceded with a small nod. Bobby was then on a new mission, turning on his heels and racing from the room.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. i loved her</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Inhaling a shaky breath, she exhaled a dry cough, absentmindedly stirring the teaspoon resting inside the warm mug in her hands. Everything trembled. Everything ached. However, the coughing had been turned down to a much lower volume across the board. There was less pain and less coughing, the combination of salve and honey tea working quickly to take the edge off.</p>
<p>There was still a deep ache when she swallowed. The small cuts on the sides of her neck stung anytime she moved. But the pain was much more tolerable. So, she sat quietly on the silver table at the back of the room, a blanket draped around her shoulders, and she stirred. Her tired eyes lingered on John, still unconscious across the room. He'd always been a hot-head—with or without a flame.</p>
<p>Though, there was something gentle behind the heat she couldn't shake as a fifteen-year-old. It intrigued her, drawing her in close enough to form an attachment. And, even though he abandoned them all, she still felt a pinch in the left side of her chest seeing him this way. Unconscious, injured, his heartbeat on a screen. Maybe she always would?</p>
<p>Logan re-entered the room once he'd been given permission from Storm. She'd helped Cassandra change out of her suit, bringing her the clothes she'd left in the dressing room, and all conscious people were forced to leave. But she was dressed now and open for visitors, so Logan found his way back to her side. He exhaled, reaching up a hand to place it carefully on her shoulder.</p>
<p>"You feelin' better?"</p>
<p>Cassandra nodded a little. The sound of Logan's voice only brought back the memory of Sabretooth's. She had ignored his comment about her father as a one-off to spare her focus, but the words he'd uttered when cutting off her air supply lingered a little longer than she intended. "Can…" she was forced to pause, her voice tapering off as she grimaced from the ache in her throat. "I need...to ask you...a question."</p>
<p>"Go for it, kid," he agreed, voice softened. Something about hearing her struggle to make sound with her words pulled at a spot deep within his chest. It was almost painful. He waited quietly as Cassandra composed her thoughts, and swallowed twice before attempting to speak again.</p>
<p>"Why would...<em>Sabretooth</em>...think he's...my uncle?"</p>
<p>His heart caught in his throat. Taking a step back, he let his arm fall to his side, and Cassandra's eyes finally moved in his direction. They were empty and unreadable—but the sheer knowledge they were on him was enough to crush him. What was he supposed to say to that? How could he possibly answer? He knew, after all this time, someday she would ask.</p>
<p>Somehow, it would come to light. He would have to explain everything, from beautiful beginning to heart-wrenching end, but how could he? He'd only begun to piece together his life involving her mother just after Cassandra left the mansion for good. Moments came to him in dreams. Then, they started coming to him when he was awake, always leaving a headache behind.</p>
<p>How could he tell her what he'd done? Or, more accurately, what he <em>failed </em>to do? Surely, she would hate him. She might hate him either way but she would surely, absolutely despise him knowing the truth. Yet still, Logan found himself aching with <em>want</em>. He wanted to share it with her. To give her the truth and whatever closure may come from it. It was such a strong confliction, adding to the surprise from the suddenness of her question, that he stood quiet a moment longer.</p>
<p>Cassandra lifted her mug to her lips for another sip before setting it aside. If it was taking him so long to answer, it must be true. Mustn't it? Why else would he seize up and forget how to use his tongue? If it were a lie, a ruse as she'd hoped, it would be a quick and easy response. She could feel her chest start to constrict again, but for a different reason.</p>
<p>"In eighty-three, I was goin' from place to place, movin' around a lot. I was driving through Iowa and I stopped- I think it was a diner, somewhere," Logan's eyes had drifted aside as recalled the revealed memories. "Anyway...I saw this beautiful woman. She was absolutely breathtaking. There were kids with her—two young boys—so I ignored it. But I got outside and realized I was turned around. She was comin' out so I introduced myself, asked for directions. She said her name was Edith."</p>
<p>Her eyes fell as the name left his mouth. It hung in the air between them for a moment as Logan reined himself in, refocusing his eyes on her face. Absentmindedly, Cassandra wrung her hands on her lap as her mind began to wander, dancing through each memory of Logan she had like a VHS on rewind. All of it was colored differently, painted by a concept that grew pressure between her eyes. It was incredibly difficult to revisit it all.</p>
<p>Though, she didn't feel that she had much of a choice anymore. She had to rewatch this movie, replay it over and over, scouring it for all the little details she might have missed—anything that indicated he was telling the truth. But the buttons on the remote were broken. The moving pictures were speeding by, racing forward and backward too quickly to fully comprehend.</p>
<p>The back of her throat began to burn again—this time a dull, warm pain—and she found it hard to swallow, blinking quickly to clear her unfocused vision. He was wrong. He had to be. They were most certainly all very wrong. The man she knew as her father was a cruel, violent man, and many times she wished he was someone different. That her life was different. Yet, somehow, the thought of her father being someone as close as Logan was too much.</p>
<p>Her chest muscles constricted further, heart racing within her rib cage against the restriction. Logan watched her carefully—he had been for a while. He witnessed the moment it sunk in, the moment she refused the idea, the moment she began to lose her grip. A dull pain throbbed in his chest when he noticed it. She was <em>trembling</em>. Cheeks glistening beneath the fluorescents, lungs heaving, frame visibly shaking—she was <em>terrified</em>.</p>
<p>Logan swallowed thickly, inhaling a deep breath. "Hey, kid, you okay?"</p>
<p>He reached up a hand, resting his palm on her shoulder, but she startled away from him. "Why...why would y-you do that?" her voice was pitched oddly with strain and confusion, hurt and fear, as she finally responded, blinking hard to clear her eyes. "She was <em>married</em>. She had kids—where was my- was Harold <em>there</em>?"</p>
<p>"Look, we only kept talking because she was tryin' to leave her husband in a way that wouldn't be dangerous for the kids. She needed help, and I thought I could-"</p>
<p>"<em>Fuck</em> her?"</p>
<p>Cassandra turned her head, eyes finally moving to meet his, and he exhaled heavily. There was no easy way to tell her any of this. He knew that. But it was more painful than he anticipated—and he was starting to wish he'd listened to his gut and lied, made up some excuse and never spoke of it again.</p>
<p>Though, there was no backing out now. So, instead, he relaxed his shoulders and kept his eyes on hers for as long as she would allow it. "I <em>loved </em>her, Cassandra," his confession passed his lips and it felt as though weight had been lifted from his chest despite the ache. "I couldn't remember her for so many years. If I had known who you were when we first met here, I would've...I know I failed you. I'm just sorry you found out like this."</p>
<p>It was hard to see even with her constant blinking, but Cassandra's tears were silent. She'd known of his memory loss since their first encounter, so that was not surprising to hear—if he'd forgotten everything else, why wouldn't he forget her mother, too? Why wouldn't he have forgotten <em>her</em>? She tried to calm herself with slow breaths. A slower pulse would help her think reasonably, she knew, but it was a struggle to regulate her lungs with her injuries.</p>
<p>Still, she exhaled slowly through her nose, forcing herself to swallow the lump still burning the back of her throat. "Did you know...did you know she died, before you lost your memory?" she questioned, quietly.</p>
<p>Logan nodded once, but the thoughts the question brought to his mind only further pained his features. "Yeah, I knew. I got there after the accident. She was alive—but there was nothing I could do. I was too late."</p>
<p>"<em>Wait-</em>" she held up a weak hand as her eyes fell closed. Her mind was overworked, and there was far too much for her to unpack in his words herself. "Why- why were you <em>there</em>? How could <em>you </em>know she was going to have a car accident?"</p>
<p>Logan stepped in front of her before reaching up, gripping the edges of the table across from hers as he pushed down, lifting himself up. Exhaling heavily, he slid onto the silver table to mirror her position, settling in for the complicated story he was about to divulge. Since remembering these events, he hadn't spoken them aloud to a single soul.</p>
<p>They were memories he kept to himself, ones he guarded closely as he reeled from the reopened wounds of his past—forced to once again mourn the loss of his beloved. "William Stryker—remember him? I used to work for him, so did Victor, but things went south and I bailed without him. Stryker found me in Iowa, told me the others we worked with were droppin' dead. He didn't tell me Victor was the one doin' it—they tricked me, so I would let them give me <em>these</em>."</p>
<p>Logan made a fist in front of his chest before pushing the silver claws through the skin, extending them to their full length in a gesture. As he hid them away, Cassandra swiped at her under eyes with the sleeves of her sweater and sniffled, "How did they trick you?"</p>
<p>"They...they killed Edith."</p>
<p>Cold rushed through her veins as her muscles stiffened suddenly, causing a sharp pain in her neck. Though, it didn't register—every ounce of her was stuck, like someone hadn't hit 'pause', but 'stop'. Everything came to a brutal halt. More confusion had been added, but so had shock, hurt, and <em>anger</em>. Her brain twisted and flipped and contorted itself but, no matter how she bent, she couldn't escape the lingering thought—<em>I was face to face with the man who murdered my mother</em>.</p>
<p>"They made it look like an accident," Logan continued in an attempt to help ease her mental pause with more information. "I promised her I would protect you, and I thought the upgrade would help me do that. But they took <em>you </em>away from me, too."</p>
<p>Heat trickled down her cheeks a little thicker, a little faster. "H-how long have you known all of this?"</p>
<p>"It's been coming back to me since Alkali Lake."</p>
<p>"Do you have any evidence for this?" Cassandra's voice was exhausted, deepened from the swelling inside her nose. Despite her mind's vacancy, she knew how it would sound to ask for such a thing. But she <em>needed </em>it. She needed whatever sanity it may help her find. "I'm not calling you a liar- I just...I'm about to lose my goddamn mind."</p>
<p>He knew how she felt—it was just as crazy to him when he began remembering it, falling deeper into madness the more he recovered. The moment she asked, the only thing he could offer her flitted to the forefront of his mind, burning a hole in the worn pocket of his jeans. Logan leaned aside as he reached for his back pocket, fingers diving in to retrieve the polaroid he knew to be there.</p>
<p>It was the only tangible thing he had to prove it happened to <em>himself</em>. A small part of him hoped it would do the same for her now. So, he unearthed it and held it out toward her, moving slowly as not to startle her again. "She gave me this, on your fourth birthday. A year before…"</p>
<p>His voice trailed off, catching in his throat as her eyes drifted down to the image. The sight alone was enough to elicit a gasp, followed only by a flood of water along the wet lines of her cheeks. It was her. It was her mother. Edith Barton had always been beautiful in her memory. Dark hair, piercing eyes, and a bright smile that warmed a room. Though, she'd only seen it a handful of times outside of photos.</p>
<p>Her husband made sure of that. Logan's picture was one she'd never seen before, not even in the oldest boxes from the attic of their family home. Edith's eyes were exceptionally lively, her smile wide as she posed with a small girl—a girl Cassandra knew to be herself. She'd looked the same here as in other photos, but the others weren't framed like this. Like a happy time, a loving mother, a sweet moment with family. Cassandra reached out. "Can I-?"</p>
<p>"Take it," Logan held it out farther, closer to her.</p>
<p>Her trembling fingers held tight to the faded, white bordering of the photo as she took it from his hand, bringing it closer for better inspection. There was no denying its authenticity if for no other reason than its obvious age. It was old and worn down from its life in denim. Feeling it between the pads of her fingers made it <em>real</em>, feeding her an oddly even amount of calm and anxiety.</p>
<p>There were so many questions bouncing around within her skull yet so many things made sense all the while. It was impossible to settle on one, the two playing a tug-of-war within her rib cage. Her paternity was such an odd thing to be revealed a lie. No matter how much she hoped to be able to, it was never something she could question—there were birth records and family photos, she'd grown up in the same house with the same parents as her brothers.</p>
<p>Why would she <em>question </em>it? Though, now, she wondered if that was the reason she'd felt so protective of him, and he of her. Could they sense it? Feel it from deep within their bones somewhere that—<em>oh, I've met this person?</em> <em>This person belongs to me?</em> It sounded absurd, but it was also a certain shade of bittersweet to consider. A nice thought that changed the way she looked at their prior interactions even further in a slightly more positive way.</p>
<p>But the change was still <em>jarring</em>. Cassandra sniffled before exhaling heavily, trying her best to regain some composure. "How did you find this?"</p>
<p>"After I started remembering, I went to the house. There was an old ammo box hidden in the barn," Logan explained, quiet in recollection. "I think I put it there for safe keeping, but...I don't remember that yet."</p>
<p>"Did we meet before she died?"</p>
<p>He nodded. "Once. You were just a week old."</p>
<p>Lowering the polaroid into her lap, she used her free hand to wipe again at her cheeks, the skin beneath her eyes, and sniffled once more. Then, she met his gaze. "How did you manage that?" she asked, curiosity lightening the weight of her voice.</p>
<p>"The boys were at school and her husband was at work. I took the day off so I could see you. You were smaller than I expected, but the doctor's said there was nothin' wrong with you."</p>
<p>"Did you...have any say on the name?" she spoke hesitantly. There was too much curiosity lingering over her, too much enthralling her in the discussion to stop, but she wasn't sure if she truly wanted to know. "I mean- Harold wouldn't have cared either way. But, were <em>you </em>involved at all?"</p>
<p>"Well, Edith already knew she wanted your name to be Cassandra—and there was no way she was givin' that up. But we did talk about it. We agreed your middle name would be Elizabeth, after my mother. She said Harold was too drunk to bother asking about it," he answered her with a half-hearted shrug.</p>
<p>Cassandra nodded tiredly. There were many more questions to ask, she knew—but she couldn't stomach any more answers. She could feel by the ache bouncing around within her skull that she'd reached her limit. Though, there was one question she needed answered that couldn't wait. So, with a sigh, she asked, "Who all knows we're related?"</p>
<p>"Just the Professor, Storm, and Scott," Logan slid off the silver table. Her exhaustion, mentally and physically, was visible. He knew she would need some time to think about all he'd confessed, to consider what it meant, and it was best they let the conversation wind down to an end. "So—none of your <em>friends</em>."</p>
<p>The gingerly sarcastic comment elicited a small, empty chuckle from Cassandra. Slowly, she held out the polaroid for him to take—but he reached up a hand to push hers away, back toward her lap. "Why don't you hold onto that for me? You look like you could use the pick-me-up more than me right now," he tilted his head, eyes still soft as they looked into hers.</p>
<p>She nodded, retracting her hand, but it felt wrong to take it from him, even just for a while. After all, it was all he had left of either of them. Cassandra had photos boxed away somewhere in storage to look back on—and a special photo <em>just </em>of her mother tucked into her night stand for those extra lonely nights—but with her unceremonious exit from the mansion, he had nothing.</p>
<p>A sudden, familiar whirring touched Cassandra's ears and she instinctively perked up, eyes searching for the doorway just as Charles appeared there, rolling into the room. He stopped his wheels two feet inside the door, gaze shifting between Cassandra and Logan.</p>
<p>"Oh, my apologies," he tipped his head. "I did not mean to interrupt."</p>
<p>However, Logan shook his head and stepped out from between the tables, away from her. "It's alright—I was on my way out," he said. Cassandra tucked the polaroid beneath her right thigh, hidden away from sight, and reached for her mug. It was close to room temperature now, but the talking she'd just done drastically dried out her throat, causing a dull ache of a burn to return.</p>
<p>Logan turned to look at Cassandra once more before his departure, his features steeled to their usual level of disinterest upon the arrival of the Professor. "Get some rest, kid," he told her.</p>
<p>She nodded a little, before her head tilted an inch. "Thank you, Logan."</p>
<p>The corners of his mouth upturned just slightly, creasing them into a noticeable, smile-esque change as he gave a singular nod. Then, he was walking toward the door. She stared at his back as he disappeared from the room, an emptiness in her chest and a burning beneath her thigh, the informational cold water dumped on her now settling in like the numbness of hypothermia.</p>
<p>Charles came closer, stopping beside the silver table Logan had been sitting on. His expression was one of understanding, and of empathy. "Storm told me your mission took an unexpected turn," he explained his presence. "How are you fairing?"</p>
<p>"Fine...I guess," Cassandra shrugged.</p>
<p>"I wanted to ask of your well being—however, I also came to warn you. Bobby and the others are convinced visiting you for a chat will cheer you up. I advised them to be aware of your present condition-"</p>
<p>"It's okay," she interrupted, settling her mug atop her lap, fingers wrapped securely around the warm ceramic. "I could use a distraction, actually."</p>
<p>"I see. Well, in that case, I believe you will be pleasantly surprised by what they have in store for you," Charles smiled, recalling what the others had told him rather fondly. Though, his vague words made Cassandra nervously suspicious. What could they possibly be intending to do? Bring in a cake and sing a 'welcome back' song?</p>
<p><em>Actually</em>, she thought, <em>that wouldn't be so bad after today</em>.</p>
<p>Because, truly, she <em>missed </em>them. Not the fighting, or the missions, or the in-house politics, but the people—her friends, her <em>family</em>. The people forced on her, whom she'd been forced on as well. None of them had much of a choice in being there, either because of their parents or their safety or both, and there was nothing else they could control either. But they could learn to control <em>themselves</em>, and they could <em>choose </em>each other.</p>
<p>Isn't that what every lost soul wants—someone to choose them? For someone to reach out and ground them from the dark nothingness and say, every day, 'I choose you'. Not just in words. In hugs, in touches, in remembrance, in warmth, in <em>love</em>. Cassandra felt too utterly empty in that moment not to feel an ounce of excitement, knowing her friends were coming to see her.</p>
<p>It was only a moment after Charles finished speaking that Bobby poked his head through the doorway, catching Cassandra's eye. "Hey, you up for visitors?" he asked, voice hopeful as he hung from the wall a bit.</p>
<p>She nodded quickly—angering the ache in her head. "Yeah. Come on in."</p>
<p>Bobby walked into the room, quickly followed by Rogue, Kitty, Jubilee, Kurt, and Warren. They filed into the silver space in a cluster. Cassandra wasn't expecting quite so many, especially not for <em>her</em>, but they all wore varying smiles of excitement. Charles backed up his chair and moved aside, still facing them all but just enough out of the way for them to get close to her.</p>
<p>The small group was halfway across the room when Peter hurried in to join them, his long strides making quick of the extra feet needed to catch up. All of them stood near Cassandra—some on either side of the silver table across from her, Jubilee taking it upon herself to hop up onto it—and adjusted their positions so all could be seen.</p>
<p>"Wow, guys," Cassandra exhaled a breathy chuckle. "When you said visitors, I didn't think half the mansion."</p>
<p>Kitty, arguably the shortest of them all, pulled herself up to sit on the table beside Cassandra. "Well, we all wanted to see how you were doing."</p>
<p>"<em>And</em> everyone wanted to be there when you were introduced to our newest member," Warren added, bracing his palms against the surface of the second silver table.</p>
<p>Curiosity, confusion, and surprise mixed together to push Cassandra's eyebrow up. She'd assumed they recruited new members, new students, since her departure. Though, his statement was a little more ominous than she anticipated. "Why? Who'd you find?" she questioned, hesitantly.</p>
<p>That was Lori's cue. She was standing just outside the room, hidden around the side to conceal herself and the fourteen-month-old she gently bounced, holding it against her chest. Initially, she thought it might be difficult to make it a surprise. Surely, the baby would make noise and give them all away. But this was a new room, with far too much to look at it, and there was silence long enough to keep it a secret.</p>
<p>She waited a second before stepping through the door, revealing herself and her child to those waiting—and the group instinctively twisted to see over their shoulders once Cassandra asked the question. Cassandra's eyes widened, her jaw slack as she blinked rapidly to comprehend the sight before her. She hadn't asked about Lori since being back at the mansion. It didn't come up, but the question still lingered.</p>
<p>It was a shock to see her old friend as a mother in the present, but not as much as it would be to anyone else. Lori had always been exceptional with children. She'd mentioned once or twice that she planned on having a family some day—but Cassandra wondered if this was what she envisioned. Lori carried the small child over to the group and Peter stepped toward her, bending to scoop his son up into his arms.</p>
<p>"His name is Max," Lori said, smiling infectiously as wrapped her arms around Peter's torso. "He doesn't have any powers yet, but he does have a knack for eating and sleeping."</p>
<p>Cassandra was stunned, dazed like a deer in headlights. All eyes were shifting between her face and the baby, looking for a reaction, waiting for a response. So, she swallowed hard and forced herself to speak despite a lack of mental clarity or planned words. "Oh my god...congratulations, guys. He's adorable."</p>
<p>In fact, he was. He was an average-sized baby but being in the arms of Colossus did minimize him quite a bit. With full cheeks, deep blue eyes, and the faintest head of black hair, he looked strikingly like his father. However, the dimples in those cheeks were unmistakably Lori's. They'd dressed him in a gray and blue, flower-patterned onesie and loosely wrapped him in a white sherpa blanket. And, with a name like Max? He was the very definition of <em>adorable</em>.</p>
<p>Lori looked excitedly at Cassandra. "Wanna hold him? You <em>are </em>his honorary Auntie Cass, after all."</p>
<p>Kitty held out her hands instinctively and Cassandra smiled in thanks before giving her the mug she'd been holding onto. Then, Cassandra held out her hands and scrunched her fingers in a gesture, plastering a smile mirroring Lori's onto her lips. "Of <em>course </em>I do," she replied, lightening her tone. "Lemme at him."</p>
<p>Peter stepped forward, the others stepping aside like the parting of the Red Sea to allow him space to hand over the infant. He was more careful with Max than Cassandra had ever seen him before, sure to gather the rest of his blanket beneath him as he bent. Once Max was lowered into Cassandra's arms, she held on tight, situating him safely in her lap. He looked up at her with wide, inquisitive eyes as he made quiet, unintelligible sounds.</p>
<p>As Peter stepped back to rejoin Lori, Cassandra couldn't help feel a bit overwhelmed. This was something she wanted to do. However, her head still ached and her throat was sore from speaking so much, and her arms were shaky as they clung to the baby within them. Though, she didn't protest or stop herself—instead, she pushed through, making a faux-surprised expression at Max.</p>
<p>"Hello, little guy. How are you? <em>Look</em> at you, oh my goodness. Those cheeks!"</p>
<p>Her voice was quieter, spoken so close to his ears, but it was breathy and full of positivity. Max wasn't scared of her, though he wasn't excited by her, either. He stared up at her still like he wasn't quite sure what he thought of her. Although, as long as he wasn't screaming and crying upon looking at her face—Cassandra would be happy with the outcome.</p>
<p>Bobby stepped a little closer to the left side of her table, but not too close to totally interrupt. "I'm the godfather," he told Cassandra, with a certain giddiness.</p>
<p>Her head shot up, eyes racing to find his. "Shut <em>up</em>."</p>
<p>"It's true," Lori added, drawing Cassandra's surprised gaze. She looked up, sharing a glance with Peter—who gave a nod—before she continued, "We were hoping you'd be the godmother."</p>
<p>"Wait...<em>me</em>?" Cassandra's features fell blank.</p>
<p>"We know you want to have your own life apart from the X-Men. But, you'll always be family to us, Cass. We would've reconnected with you much sooner if we could've found you," Peter explained, gently, upon seeing her expression.</p>
<p>Though, it wasn't a want to decline that held her back. Her first instinct was to agree, to rejoice with her friends and hold that baby a little tighter. But all she could think about was the conversation she'd just had with Logan. With her <em>father</em>. Being a parent was an <em>enormously </em>huge responsibility. And although she theoretically wouldn't be parenting the child anytime soon, there was always a threat of danger.</p>
<p>If something happened to Lori and Peter—would she truly be able to resume that responsibility and take care of a child? Her eyes drifted down to those big, blue eyes of Max's. His tiny smile was infectious, warming her chest with the urge to have one of her own—that all-too-common desire babies somehow instill into everyone around them—and she exhaled a deep breath. Finally, she replied, "I would be honored."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. within her rage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Xavier's School</strong>
  <em><br/><strong>August, 2004</strong> </em>
</p>
<p>It was silent tonight in the halls of the mansion. Too quiet for Cassandra's liking. Light's out was two hours ago, and she'd been lying there awake for almost half that—her mind a bustling hive with a swarm just waiting for a reason to strike. Its buzzing was loud, uncomfortable as she rolled over on the springs once again. John slept through her unease. He usually did.</p>
<p>The boy was a heavy sleeper, leaving him unaware of her tossing and turning, fighting for a comfortable spot to finally rest. His arm remained draped over her torso, where he placed it before drifting off—thanks to Cassandra's more careful movements. She knew he was a little more difficult to wake up than that, but the thought of interrupting his slumber for something so benign riddled her with preemptive guilt.</p>
<p>However, an hour was long enough. Her body itched and burned, begging her to get up and <em>do </em>something, and she couldn't pretend like she didn't feel it any longer. "I'm going to the bathroom. I'll be right back," she whispered, fingers easing his arm away from her torso. John mumbled into the pillow something that sounded like an 'okay', but he was still very much asleep and the reply was simply a subconscious response to her voice. Her lips curved up into a small smile before she pressed them to his right temple. Then, she eased herself out of bed.</p>
<p>Upon standing up, her mind quieted enough to give her a dizzying pang of tiredness, but it wore off just as quickly as it came. She walked lightly to the door and turned the lock, before guiding it open enough to slip into the dim hallway. This was common for her. It was something she and John started doing a few months before—they'd wait long enough after light's out, and then Cassandra would teleport to his room. At first, it was simply an easy way to be intimate without the adults finding out.</p>
<p>Though, over time, it was a habit to simply arrive and fall asleep together. Then, she would get restless and need to escape for a while, to walk around long enough to tire her ever-active mind before coming back. So, she walked the hallways and pattered down the stairs when she'd seen enough of them. She passed Jones in the common room twice, catching a different channel on the television in front of him every time, but she would expect nothing less.</p>
<p>Poor Jones didn't really sleep either. Instead, he sat on the couch, blinking his way through the various programs on at such a late hour to pass the time. Cassandra stopped at the doorway on her third trek with an exhale through her nostrils. "Find anything good?" she asked him.</p>
<p>"Discovery has a special about rhinos," he sighed, thoroughly bored.</p>
<p>"Killer," she tiredly quipped. "Want anything from the kitchen?"</p>
<p>He shook his head, so she turned on her heels and backtracked to the kitchen just down the hall. During each pass, she hadn't noticed the light pouring into the side hall from the doorway. Its soft glow was startling. Slowly, she stepped toward the door, head tipped curiously as she approached. Little did she know—it was Bobby. He sat at the island, facing the arched doorway with a tub of ice cream. He pushed his spoon around numbly, his mind somewhere else, unaware of Cassandra's entrance to the kitchen.</p>
<p>"Come here often?" she quipped, startling him out of his daze.</p>
<p>He looked up with wide eyes, but relaxed with a sigh upon seeing her. "I thought you were turning in."</p>
<p>"Eh," she shrugged as she reached for a cupboard on the other side of the kitchen. "Couldn't sleep. Why are <em>you </em>awake? Girl troubles again?"</p>
<p>Bobby's second sigh was heavy. Yes, in fact, it was. He was embarrassed to admit it—but it was true. His feelings for Rogue were real, and she was important to him, but there were so many questions no one would be able to answer. It was hard not to become a bit depressed thinking about it. It plagued him through the night, wondering what to do, how to connect with her without touch, until he finally had to get up.</p>
<p>What good was sorrow without sugar, anyway? So, there he sat, nursing his doubts with some ice cold rocky road. He nodded silently, scooping up another spoonful. Cassandra shuffled with a glass to the fridge and held it under the front dispenser, filling the glass with water. "Wanna talk about it?"</p>
<p>"I don't know. Probably wouldn't help," he shrugged, staring into his ice cream. It was quiet for a moment as he shoved the spoonful into his mouth. Cassandra brought her water to the island, setting the glass beside the tub of ice cream, before sliding onto the adjacent stood. Then, after a few chews, he was talking again. "I just don't know what to do anymore. How does a relationship like this even work?"</p>
<p>"You guys don't have to touch to be together," Cassandra said, lifting the glass to her lips.</p>
<p>Bobby snorted. "Easy to say when you regularly have sex with your boyfriend—and it's <em>gross </em>that I know that, by the way. I can't even hold Rogue's hand unless she's wearing gloves."</p>
<p>"You know what I mean," she tilted her head, giving him a look. "We don't know if Rogue will ever be able to touch someone. You have to figure out if that's something you're up for. If it's not, you need to tell her. Moping around eating ice cream while you drag her—and yourself—along isn't going to help anything."</p>
<p>"Yeah, but how do I even figure that out, Cass? I've never been in love before."</p>
<p>"Neither have I—John's an asshole sometimes but I can deal with that. If that behavior gets worse or I'm sick of it, I'll move on. Whatever you decide doesn't have to be permanent. You can change your mind. Fuck, I mean, we're <em>sixteen-</em>"</p>
<p>Bobby tilted his head to look up at her from his carton as he interrupted, "Uh- <em>you're </em>still <em>fifteen</em>."</p>
<p>A teasing smile played on his lips, patronizing her as a brother would. Cassandra's eyebrows drew together, lips coiling with annoyance as she reached out, sending her knuckles into the side of his upper arm. "Jesus," both teens startled as Logan stepped into the kitchen tiredly. "Doesn't anybody in this place sleep?"</p>
<p>He didn't wait for a response before moving to the fridge, pulling open both doors and peering in to search for something specific. Cassandra sighed and returned to her glass, lifting it to her lips to take another drink, as Bobby absentmindedly pushed half-melted ice cream around in the container. "I guess not," Bobby said.</p>
<p>"You got any beer?" Logan questioned, looking over his shoulder.</p>
<p>Bobby's eyebrows raised on his forehead in disbelief. "This is a <em>school</em>."</p>
<p>Cassandra's eyes moved in a straight line to the left, right to Bobby's face, as her eyebrows subtly raised on her forehead as well. <em>Really?</em> she was questioning. <em>That's the best you can do?</em> Of course there was alcohol. It was tucked away, hidden in a vent at the back of Peter's closet—the last place the adults would go looking. Cassandra had asked—no, <em>begged</em>—him to let her keep it there and, eventually, he gave in.</p>
<p>"You got anything other than chocolate milk, then?"</p>
<p>"There should be some sodas in that small cupboard," Bobby answered, pointing to a high cupboard on the left wall of the kitchen. Logan sighed heavily as he closed up the refrigerator and sauntered promptly to the cupboard he was directed. Bobby looked questioningly at Cassandra, but she only shrugged. How was <em>she </em>to know why Logan was awake?</p>
<p>It was true they seemed close, though they didn't spend time exchanging personal details. Their friendship, their bond, was surface level. She thought about the validity of that statement as her index finger circled the rim of her glass, watching Logan retrieve one of the glass-bottled sodas from the cabinet. Yes, she felt attached to him in the faintest way. No, that wasn't it. <em>Protective</em>.</p>
<p>Protective, defensive, loyal—all synonyms within this emotion. It was hard for her to decipher its meaning by herself, but there was no way she was going to ask one of the adults for help. This was best kept to herself. Close to her chest, where it belonged. Logan twisted open the cap of the drink and raised it, pausing suddenly halfway. An ingenious idea came to his mind.</p>
<p>Turning toward Bobby, he held out the glass, and Bobby didn't hesitate to take it from him. Bobby blew gently on the bottle and a soft wind of ice coated the inside of the glass, effectively chilling the liquid. Then, he handed it back to Logan. "Thanks," Logan tipped his head, before taking a pull from the bottle.</p>
<p>"No problem," Bobby returned the nod.</p>
<p>Cassandra chuckled once, beneath her breath. "You should've been here when the freezer quit last week. It was quite the show."</p>
<p>"Was it now?" Logan cocked his head, smiling loosely down at her. He then stepped closer to the island before lowering himself onto one of the stools, across from the teens. "Did you at least build a snowman or something?"</p>
<p>"Jean said not in the kitchen," Cassandra replied, with a shake of her head.</p>
<p>Logan chuckled. He'd spoken the comment in jest, but the thought of Cassandra begging Jean to allow her permission for snowman building out of Bobby's snow in this very room was more than humorous. The more he thought about it, the more it did sound like something Cassandra would attempt. "We went outside for that part," Bobby added. He smiled at the memory as he dug around in the ice cream.</p>
<p>They waited until his assistance was no longer needed, and then Bobby took Cassandra and Kitty, Rogue and Lori, outside to the lawn. It wasn't more than an ice sculpture, but the creation was a team effort—or, so he let them believe. Either way, it was a nice way to blow off steam and enjoy the weekend. "I heard you got a boyfriend now," Logan changed the subject, looking primarily at Cassandra.</p>
<p>When he first arrived earlier in the evening, he'd asked Rogue to fill him in on what he missed. She told him a lot of bland, basic events and happenings, but also a few social changes. Logan was more than surprised to hear this one, though. Although he couldn't put a finger on why, he had assumed she was attracted to girls. Maybe it was her closeness with Kitty? Or Jubilee? Or Lori? No, it was definitely Kitty.</p>
<p>Cassandra was a bit taken aback by the new topic, but she didn't shy away from it. Instead, she nodded and took another drink. "Yeah. John and I have been kind of dating for almost a year. We just made it a thing a couple months ago."</p>
<p>"A year? Wow. That's like ten for you guys. So he's treating you right? I don't need to pull his ass outta bed and scare him, do I?"</p>
<p>"God, no-"</p>
<p>Though, Bobby interrupted with another patronizing smile, his words partially in jest, "No, he's just an asshole to <em>other </em>people."</p>
<p>Cassandra's eyes shifted to Bobby's face, their lack of amusement only making his smile a bit wider. It wasn't like she disagreed—however, she did wish that he didn't say those things in front of someone like Logan. Neither Cassandra nor Bobby would put it past him to do just as he said, and that was the last thing they needed. Logan glanced between them, taking a drink from his soda as he observed the clear but untranslatable conversation happening before him. "Oh, so you're into bad boys," he mused, fanning the invisible flames.</p>
<p>Whatever response Cassandra quipped with fell on deaf ears. Sounds called to him, tickling his sensitive eardrums from somewhere else, enough to turn his head. They sounded like footsteps. Voices through a tin can—no, a radio. Clanks and clatters, gear and guns. It pulled Logan to his feet, abandoning the bottle on the island countertop to step closer to the doorway, listening a bit closer.</p>
<p>Both Bobby and Cassandra paused the moment Logan stood, his sudden movement surprising but more so worrisome. "What is it?" Bobby asked, ruefully. Logan shushed them both as he slowly moved closer to the door. Bobby stood quietly from his stool and turned to walk toward the window, peering through the glass into the darkness of the yard. Cassandra's stomach tightened.</p>
<p>Something was wrong. That much was clear by Logan's behavior. He disappeared to the right, down the side hall, and she slid off the stool instinctively. "Bobby-" she darted toward him, tugging gently on his arm. "Get away from the window."</p>
<p>"Why? What's going on-?"</p>
<p>A soldier dressed in heavy, camouflage gear with a large gun walked through the doorway. However, he opted for a much smaller gun in his other hand, raising it to aim at Bobby's back. But Logan was on him in a second, grabbing the man's arms and pinning them behind his back with a snarl, "You picked the wrong house, bub."</p>
<p>The commotion turned both teens around. Their eyes blew wide, adrenaline set loose in their veins—though, Logan's assault on the soldier was interrupted by a loud, incredibly high-pitched screaming. Bobby's hands clapped over his ears to block out the sound, partially to no avail, as Logan cried out. Then, the soldier gained an ounce of upper-hand, lifting his larger gun to begin firing. Cassandra quickly grabbed for Bobby and pulled him forward with her, diving behind the island to miss a spray of bullets.</p>
<p>It was the constant scream that awoke every other student in the mansion. The sound was simultaneously a defense mechanism and a warning, making the little girl behind it a kind of canary in a coal mine. She continued to scream until a soldier in her room mustered the strength to fire a set of tranquilizer darts at her neck. The screaming stopped only as she fell back in her bed, unconscious.</p>
<p>Logan grunted as he wrestled with the soldier in the kitchen, the soldier's knife slicing across his cheek as he forced him back, into the front of the island. But, a second later, the cut was healed. Logan loosed his metallic claws and, with a cry of fury, shoved the soldier's back against the fridge, before sinking both sets of knives on his knuckles into the soldier's chest.</p>
<p>Bobby rose up on his knees to peer cautiously over the edge of the island. It was then that Cassandra grabbed his arm once more, gaining his attention. "Siryn. She's in trouble," she said, her voice quick and breathy from the burn in her lungs.</p>
<p>"I know," Bobby stood up, pulling her to her feet with him. "We'll find her, okay?"</p>
<p>"You guys okay?" Logan questioned, chest heaving.</p>
<p>Bobby nodded, and Cassandra followed suit despite the worry fraying her nerves. All of the children were in trouble now. At least the warning would give the other students some time to get out before the soldiers reached them. It was the nightmare scenario, the one the adults had prepared them for under the guises of words like 'could' and 'maybe' and 'if'. Yet, here it was.</p>
<p>Cassandra was nine years old when she asked just how possible this occasion was. Scott answered with a story from his childhood, confessing that he himself had been a victim of such a thing as a teenager. And although Jean had been there to spin it into a lesson with a positive outlook, it had remained in the back of Cassandra's mind, aging with her in the form of subtle paranoia and fear that often manifested itself within her rage.</p>
<p>But it wasn't just a story anymore, it wasn't unfounded paranoia—it was <em>happening</em>. Logan grabbed Bobby by his arm and yanked, pulling him along quickly toward the doorway with him, and Cassandra followed closely as her heart pounded inside her chest. Logan stepped out, into the main hall, and froze. Three, four—five soldiers stood further down the hallway, all dressed like the first and adorned with guns and flashlights.</p>
<p>Logan quickly shoved Bobby back by his chest with a quick command, "Stay here." Then he let Bobby go completely, before marching down the hallway toward the soldiers. As Logan began to sink his claws into the first soldier he could reach, the screams and thumping of footsteps from the children upstairs bled through the floor, drawing the eyes of the teens.</p>
<p>"Bobby-"</p>
<p>"Let's go," Bobby nodded quickly to Cassandra. She didn't hesitate to grab his shoulder and teleport, leaving the downstairs hallway for the hallway two floors up. The screams were louder now, the rumble of helicopters mixing with them.</p>
<p>As Cassandra let go of his arm, she told him, "Find Rogue—I'll help the kids downstairs."</p>
<p>Bobby was caught off guard by her words, unable to comprehend them quickly in the stressful circumstance. "Wait, what-?"</p>
<p>Then, she was gone. Instead, she appeared on the second floor, at the end of a hall. Siryn's room was just down it and to the left, she knew. Her feet started moving before her mind could tell them to. But, suddenly, the wall on her left broke through, two soldiers flying out of Siryn's room and into the wall to Cassandra's right.</p>
<p>She skidded against the carpet to stop in time before she could be hit with the shredded wood of the wall or trip on the bodies of the soldiers. As kids pooled behind her from around the corner, Peter carried Siryn's limp body through the opening in the wall as silver faded from his skin, and the relief she could've felt from either things was quickly replaced with more terror as white light flooded in through the window behind them all.</p>
<p>"This way," Peter tipped his head to the left, and the kids ran by Cassandra to follow him as he began walking.</p>
<p>Arms grabbed hold of Cassandra and she lurched, but a familiar voice was quick to ease her nerves. "Hey, it's me!" Lori shouted over the kids and the helicopters, pulling Cassandra to follow the group of kids. "Where's John and Bobby?"</p>
<p>Cassandra shook her head. "I don't know—Bobby and I split up. Have you seen Kitty?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, she was helping kids group with us, but I haven't seen her in a while," Lori answered, reaching out an arm to guide one of the younger kids along faster. It was like a small herd, with the majority of children being younger than thirteen, and Lori had volunteered as a shepherd. She was always involved with the younger kids since she first arrived at the mansion two years ago.</p>
<p>She'd felt protective of each one of them, taking an almost motherly role amongst the students. So, it wasn't surprising to Cassandra that Lori was herding the children now like a loyal border collie, bringing its sheep to the safety of the escape door. There was one on every level, an access point to the tunnels beneath the mansion. Charles made sure of it that drills were run frequently for such a time as this.</p>
<p>Peter lead the group right to it, Lori keeping track of the kids that trailed behind. He handed off Siryn to two of the older kids, and they held her up as he stepped closer to the wall, the panel he knew the door to be behind. Then, the side of his fist slammed hard into the panel. It was enough to break it loose, the panel sliding open with a creak to reveal the tunnel access, and the kids began to flood inside.</p>
<p>Lori let go of Cassandra to better guide the children, moving to the other side of the access to help them inside. But Cassandra stood back. She could leave now, get somewhere safe, and make sure this group makes it out to the woods. Though, she couldn't fight the lump surging into her throat at the thought of leaving John and Bobby behind. And still, Kitty was unaccounted for. Where was Jubilee?</p>
<p>How could she leave in good conscience with so many still in the mansion? "Cass, come on," Lori waved a hand to usher her forward, toward the access.</p>
<p>Again, Cassandra shook her head. "I have to find John. I'm sorry."</p>
<p>"Be careful," Peter nodded once. "If it looks like you're not gonna make it, get out. Don't wait around if you can't find him, okay? Promise."</p>
<p>"I promise."</p>
<p>She returned the nod without hesitation before teleporting again, disappearing before them. Lori exhaled heavily through her nose as she guided the last child through the access. If it were up to her, she would have kept Cassandra with them. She knew firsthand how reckless Cassandra could be, how quickly she could get caught up in her emotions, and a situation like this was the worst time to let her go somewhere alone.</p>
<p>There was no one to anchor her, and it could be catastrophic if she were forced to defend herself. But there was no time to debate it. Logan rounded the hall corner with Jones' limp body in his arms, gaining Peter's attention—and thus attaining Lori's, too. "Hey, take him," Logan said, as he approached quickly. "He's stunned."</p>
<p>Peter stepped forward and Logan placed Jones into his arms. "What are <em>you </em>going to do?" Lori asked, looking up at Logan.</p>
<p>"I'm gonna buy you guys some time. Get outta here."</p>
<p>Logan turned on his heels and hurried down the length of the hallway, only stopping at the corner by Peter's voice as he called to him, "I can help you." Of course he could. There was no denying that. Once <em>Colossus</em>, Peter could easily throw as many soldiers from the mansion as necessary. But he was just a child, like the rest of them, and he was needed elsewhere.</p>
<p>"Help <em>them</em>," Logan shook his head.</p>
<p>Peter disagreed with the decline of his offer, but ultimately understood the rationale. After all, the reasoning was unconscious in his ungodly muscled arms. Lori slipped into the access and Peter bent to follow behind her, the pair a bit behind the others, but the kids waited for them to catch up in the tunnels. Despite the frequent drills, it was easy for the younger ones to get lost—or, for fear to simply block the information from their brains under pressure.</p>
<p>When Cassandra appeared in a hallway on the second floor, it was absolute chaos. Students ran through like they were on fire, the lights from the helicopters circling the mansion casting shadows as they shined through the windows, and doors hung open from the quick and violent exits. But Cassandra started moving, dodging the students fluttering through as she skidded around a corner.</p>
<p>Then, the hallways were suddenly empty. All the students beyond this point had already fled. It was a positive thing, but the sight was far too ominous to be celebrated. Still, Cassandra started running. If there weren't other students clogging up the halls, it shouldn't be hard to make sure the others had gotten out, should it? So she ran quickly, drifting around corners like a professional stunt driver, heart pounding in her chest—and then, <em>impact</em>.</p>
<p>Her front slammed into something, the left side of her body hitting most of it, and she was spun. She was sent sprawling to the carpet, Rogue in the same position opposite her. The hit was jarring, added to that the brief contact of skin and the hard drop into the solid floor—they were both sure to bruise. Cassandra groaned as Rogue scrambled to sit up, the adrenaline from the night far away from wearing thin.</p>
<p>"Cass? Are you okay?" she questioned in a panic. "Why are you still here?"</p>
<p>Cassandra pushed herself up into a sitting position before getting on her knees, pausing to let the swirling in her head slow down. "I'm fine. I came to look for-"</p>
<p>"Rogue! Cass!"</p>
<p>It was Bobby's voice. Cassandra looked up—too quickly not to worsen her dizziness—and, sure enough, it was Bobby. John was at his side, the pair racing from the other end of the hall. Rogue pushed herself to her feet with a grimace as they approached rapidly. John was frantic, dropping to his knees with a brief slide on the carpet as he reached Cassandra. Hands on her shoulders, he looked for injuries, eyes scanning her at warp speed.</p>
<p>"Hey- are you okay? Are you hurt?"</p>
<p>Cassandra was still dizzied, but she lunged at him, wrapped her arms around his neck tightly. "I'm okay, it's just a bump on the head."</p>
<p>"We ran into each other—literally," Rogue explained, apologetically.</p>
<p>"What the hell is wrong with you, huh?" John pulled away to see Cassandra's face, his voice risen with adrenaline-fueled panic. "What are you still doing in here?"</p>
<p>"I was looking for <em>you</em>, asshole! I'm not leaving you behind," Cassandra defended herself, voice rising to match his.</p>
<p>John <em>wanted </em>to be angry. He wanted to voice his frustrations with her decision, voice all the reasons why it was foolish and naive, to reprimand her for putting herself in danger. But she came back for <em>him</em>—she risked her own capture because she couldn't leave without knowing he got out, too. And although she did worry about the others as well, it would've been impossible to reconcile escaping without <em>him</em>.</p>
<p>"Damn you," John shook his head at the situation before leaning in, placing a haste kiss on her lips. Then he stood, pulling her to her feet with him, an arm around her torso to support her as he tugged her close. "Let's get out of here."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. magneto was right</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Present Day</strong>
</p>
<p>She woke to the sound of birds, soft in her ears from an open window across the room. Light pooled against the skin of her eyelids but they remained shut. Even just lying there, completely still, every muscle gently ached. And she was still so <em>tired</em>. How could she still be this exhausted? Maybe it'll wear off? Surely, it has to.</p>
<p>If she wasn't careful, using her powers often left her feeling drowsy—but this was different. As her eyelids cracked open, light flooded in, and it felt as though the skin weighed half her body weight. She struggled to pry them fully open. There was a thin haze over her vision—a blurriness she tried furiously to blink away—but even still, her eyes moved slowly to take in the room.</p>
<p>It was as she left it the night before, simply lit by the morning sun. Her joints hesitated as she moved her arms, folding them to push up on her elbows, like hinges that hadn't moved the weight of a door in far too long. The sweep of her eyes continued over the rest of the room—then, stopped entirely. There was a man slumped in a chair near the foot of the bed.</p>
<p>Cassandra blinked harder, squinting. Surprise swirled with dread in her gut as she recognized Clint's features. His arms crossed loosely over his chest as his head leaned to the right, eyes closed as he slumbered quietly. "He's only been asleep for the last hour," Barney's voice startled her, forcing her head to the left in a sudden snap. He sat in a second chair beside the bed, holding a towel-wrapped ice pack to the side of his head.</p>
<p>"W-what-" her voice broke and she cleared her throat, swallowing hard. Her neck was still so sensitive, so raw. A heavy exhale of frustration escaped her. It seemed as though her voice was only worsened the morning after. At least last night, she could speak full sentences uninterrupted. Though, the full weight of her injuries hadn't settled in yet. "What...is he...doing here?"</p>
<p>"Same thing I am—waiting for you to wake up. I guess the professor called him after you passed out. That guy Logan's been in here about a hundred times. I have a theory he's secretly some kind of angry robot that doesn't sleep."</p>
<p>Instinctively, Cassandra chuckled a little at the sarcasm behind his comment. But the mention of Logan only turned her stomach, bringing back all the things he'd said, the ugly truths that recolored her brothers' faces. They appeared to her in a different hue now. Yes, they were still her brothers. She grew up with them, shared blood with them. Although, they didn't know what <em>she </em>knew.</p>
<p>They didn't know their aggressive, alcoholic father was just that—<em>theirs</em>. She was a mutant because her biological father was, which finally gave an answer to the age old question of her brothers' lack of mutation, but the revelation was bittersweet. Somehow, she thought, she would be better off never knowing. "You feeling okay? You've got some gnarly bruising," Barney said, adjusting his ice pack.</p>
<p>Cassandra nodded numbly. "Fine. Voice is...delicate."</p>
<p>She pushed herself upright into a sitting position and Clint jolted awake, startling both of the other siblings. His eyes were a little wide as they blinked away the dryness of exhaustion, but they relaxed as they settled on Cassandra, his mind awake enough to comprehend his surroundings. "Hey," he said, sitting up a bit more in his chair as his hands fell to the arm rests. "Everything okay?"</p>
<p>Instead of speaking, Cassandra opted to simply sign her response, saving her throat from any more trauma and allowing her sentences to run much longer. "<em>I'm okay, just a little sore. My voice is pretty fucked up from the swelling. But I feel okay. You didn't have to come all this way—I know I forgot to call, and I'm sorry, but I'm fine</em>."</p>
<p>"Cass, look in a mirror. You look like hell. Your neck is totally purple, the bandages on the back don't help, and you look like you haven't slept in days," Clint pointed out, with a tilt of his head.</p>
<p>"<em>I know, I know</em>," she sighed, hands moving tiredly. "<em>It doesn't look good. But it could've been so much worse, and it wasn't. I've trained for situations like this since I was thirteen. It's not as bad as it looks, I promise.</em>"</p>
<p>"Saying you've been trained just makes this worse," Clint argued. "You could've been killed—you clearly only <em>just </em>escaped death."</p>
<p>"<em>I had no choice, Clint! This is my life, it always has been. You don't understand and you never will, because you're not a mutant. You don't have to be trained for daily life. You chose your profession. I don't get paid to keep other powered people and high-ranking government officials from killing me and my friends just for being alive. It doesn't end when I'm bored! Either I fight or I die. That's it.</em>"</p>
<p>The room was eerily silent. Barney had kept up enough with the swiftness of her signs to understand the gist, and his eyes were now on Clint. Though, Clint's features were rather unreadable. He knew the hatred for mutants ran deep within the country—he would even go so far as to say it ran deep throughout the <em>world</em>. He'd seen it with his own eyes, the unprovoked malice <em>and </em>the justified concern, both existing at the same time.</p>
<p>It was a hard pool to wade through. Clint had to choose his words very carefully, or she could easily accuse him of siding with the hatred. The line was thin, getting thinner every passing year as the nuance was all but obscured from the conversation, fear and hate breeding a new kind of ignorance.</p>
<p>Barney had also seen it—much closer than Clint ever had. He spent his days working on cases of mutant crime, some of which were false accusations or drastically inflated charges. The anti-mutant sentiment was palpable. Seeing the way Cassandra defended herself so fiercely was painful. She shouldn't have to, he knew. And he wished she had no reason to even <em>think </em>such things.</p>
<p>Though, they were all true. Cassandra exhaled a deep breath before signing, "<em>I'm sorry. I'm just tired, and...angry, about a lot of things</em>."</p>
<p>"Don't apologize," Clint shook his head, exhaling as well. "You're in pain, under a lot of stress. I'm just worried."</p>
<p>A pang of guilt hit Cassandra's chest but the frustration lingered despite it, eliciting another deep exhale. Though, it didn't help. Her hands pushed the comforter down her body, knees pulling up to slip her feet out, before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. It turned her back completely to Barney, and partially to Clint—but her shoulders felt like a shelter. So many things demanded her attention, demanding she give some kind of emotional response, and all pulled her in a different direction.</p>
<p>It was overwhelming, to say the least. Her hands were shaking—<em>didn't they always?</em>—and her throat burned, another reminder of yesterday's altercation and what came after, and it was all <em>so much</em>. Aching, throbbing, her head swirled, dizzying even as she sat still. She reached up a trembling hand, tipping the right side of her forehead into the palm as she braced herself against the onslaught.</p>
<p>The raging anger, running rampant within her veins, remained even as grief and sorrow entered. Edith came to mind—bringing along the frustration of realising what Victor had done too late, but something darker, something more crushing. Underneath the outbursts and the pushing and shoving of self-isolation, she was simply a little girl who missed her mother. Cassandra was filled with a rush of grief, sadness, and hurt. And she <em>cried</em>.</p>
<p>At first, her tears were silent. Barney and Clint eyed Cassandra suspiciously, but they wanted to give her some space. She was clearly distraught and could use it. And then a small, whiny sound touched Barney's ears, followed by a strong sniffle, and he looked to Clint. He knew that, behind that veil of brown hair, she was beginning to <em>sob</em>. All her pain, all her grief she could not process at such a young age—and refused to touch since—was forcing its way out of the chest she'd locked it in.</p>
<p>It had been bound and thrown inside, with heavy chains wrapped around it, a solid and sturdy lock keeping it shut tightly for as long as she needed. But she was unaware of just how breakable that lock was. After so many years of the little things hitting the metal, chipping away at it moment by moment, it was slipping out. Barney stared knowingly at Clint, and Clint understood. He'd assumed from her posture what was happening, but he needed a second opinion, someone who could hear her tears a little clearer.</p>
<p>Though, once he was sure, he surged from his chair and moved swiftly around the end of the bed. Clint dropped onto the exposed sheets beside her and wrapped his arms around her frame, pulling her against his chest. She didn't have the energy or the mental clarity to fight—instead, she <em>fell </em>into him, trembling hands gripping tightly to the fabric of his shirt in a desperate search for something solid, something <em>safe</em>.</p>
<p>Barney stood and walked to the end of the bed, before grabbing the back of Clint's chair and giving it a tug. He repositioned it beside the bed to be closer, angled right for a better view, but still far enough away to allow the others space. His heart broke for his sister just as Clint's, but it was no secret those two were already much closer than Barney was with either. His fault, he knew. Either way, he was unsure of how much of this he was allowed to take part in, and how much he was a part of simply out of coincidence.</p>
<p>So, he lowered himself into the chair and repositioned the ice pack against his temple, and he <em>listened</em>. The revisited loss of her mother and what it caused was hurtful enough, but Cassandra was also plagued by the knowledge that she wasn't a full sibling to either of her brothers. What would they say if they knew? Would they look at her differently? Treat her differently? Would they happily be rid of her and the mutant half of their family? After all, this was their mother's doing. Edith had lied to all of them—could they resent Cassandra as well?</p>
<p>Surely, they wouldn't be so callous. But the thoughts were so prevalent, so intrusive, that crying was all she could manage to do. "Hey, it's okay," Clint ran a hand up and down her back soothingly, speaking quietly. "Everything's gonna be okay, Cass. I promise. Even if it's not, you have us. You have <em>me</em>. Whatever's going on—we can handle it, together."</p>
<p>Barney sat forward a little, quick to confirm, "You've got me, too."</p>
<p>Yes, she knew she had them both. Though, it didn't give her the kind of hope and confidence either of them intended. This was something her brothers could not fix. They could not mend this wound—only watch as it ran its course. Cassandra fought herself, pulling away from Clint to sit upright on her own, and she scrubbed at the wetness on her cheeks. Her hands still shook as they furiously combed her hair back, out of her face.</p>
<p>The urge to continue crying was ever present in the form of a dry, burning throat, but what good would it do her? What could she gain? Nothing she wanted. No, she wanted an outlet. A place to put her overflowing, unstable emotions that would be useful, helpful. There weren't all too many options at the moment big enough to fit all of this inward chaos—though, there was one that stuck out to her amongst the mess at the back of her mind.</p>
<p>Stark Industries was building sentinels. That knowledge alone was now enough to gain the attention of her anger, the rage trapped within her rib cage, giving her the strength to sniffle away the last of her tears. There were much more important things happening, so many important things to do. She could cry later, she told herself. There would always be time for tears. Action, on the other hand, was rare only for the sake of swift decisions.</p>
<p>Cassandra, and most mutants alike, had formed a habit of checking the news, keeping a lookout for a sudden turn in the political weather. Waiting for someone to reintroduce the Registration Act or something worse. This habit held her in front of the television, eyeing the screen with disdain as Tony Stark gave his infamous press conference. The day he declared himself <em>Iron Man</em>.</p>
<p>It wasn't too surprising that an arrogant, self-centered war profiteer would give himself such a sudden hero status, but it <em>smarted</em>. People like Tony Stark could afford to come forward and expose themselves. They could easily save lives and fight crime in the light of day and they would return home to applause. Just like Reed Richards after his accident in space, yet another rich, white man applauded for his abilities and regarded as a hero.</p>
<p>Steve Rogers dedicated his life to the US military during World War II, allowing the government to enhance him and give him super strength, and he was a war hero—even now with his resurface, he was still a hero regardless of his physicality. However, Mutants like Cassandra were immediately met with hostility, threatened with violence, and forced to help those they could in the shadows. Anyone who sided with the mutants were also hated and subtly shunned.</p>
<p>So, it was easy to place her anger here, to choose to focus on this problem instead of any others. Added to her already existing resentment of Stark, he was—unknowingly or otherwise—manufacturing her people's genocide. "W-what do you...know about Stark Industries?" Cassandra asked, signing as she forced the words past her lips.</p>
<p>"It's horse shit," Barney didn't hesitant to answer. His quick reply drew Cassandra's eyes, and Clint followed hers curiously to Barney's face. With all eyes on him, he elaborated, "The guy had, what- <em>fifteen years</em> to stop selling weapons to terrorists—foreign <em>and </em>domestic—and only pulls the plug after <em>his </em>life is threatened? Bullshit."</p>
<p>"Know anything...about his stance...on mutants?" Cassandra probed, with another hard sniffle.</p>
<p>Barney cocked his head momentarily in a gesture, his features colored in with a certain shade of righteous disgust. "If I remember correctly, he was a proud supporter of Senator Kelly in oh-three. Hasn't spoken on it since, though."</p>
<p>"Stark backed the Registration Act?" Clint questioned. His eyes were narrowed with surprise and confusion, and only a very small ounce of disbelief. Though, it was only hard to believe S.H.I.E.L.D. would want such an eyesore working for them. Working with <em>him</em>.</p>
<p>Cassandra scrubbed another hand over her face, exhaling heavily as Barney replied. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure you could find some juicy quotes by just googling, 'Tony Stark hates mutants'," he said. "There's more groups <em>supporting </em>him than denouncing him for it, but that's humanity for you."</p>
<p>Carefully, Cassandra stood. She pushed herself to feet and took quick but ginger steps to maneuver around Barney's chair, and Clint's eye's followed her. "Hey, where are you going?" he asked. Concern and confusion swirled behind his voice. Though, Cassandra didn't blame him for being worried—with the direction her gut was pulling her, she would be concerned, as well.</p>
<p>But she was not, because the sensible part of her brain had been forcibly switched off. It was the only thing keeping her from outright accepting Magneto's mission on the spot. Without it, she was free to follow the rage. "I need to...find a friend," she said, turning as she reached the door to sign her response to him. "I'll explain later." In all honesty, she had no real intention of explaining anything set to take place after this moment.</p>
<p>She shuffled quickly through the doorway, stepping into the hall—and she'd decided. <em>Magneto was right</em>. If the new sentinels were unleashed, put to use as they were made for, they would kill thousands. Although, it only didn't matter what side she was on because she planned to make her own. There was no need to use whatever resources Magneto had, when she could easily handle the task alone. Of course, she wasn't entirely alone.</p>
<p>The only problem would be getting her selected partner on board with the new mission. Stepping into the hall, she ducked quickly to the left to avoid an incoming student. It was such an odd sight, the busied hallways of the school still bustling, as though nothing else was happening. They were blissfully ignorant to the threat looming over them all. Cassandra continued on her trek, walking with a quickened pace to the staircase. She took the steps two at a time, hopping down them despite the dull throbbing ever present at the base of her skull, and hooked a sharp left.</p>
<p>It was still so effortless, navigating her way through the mansion. There was a map in her mind she followed, relying on her feet to take her when that failed, and she arrived safely at the kitchen. The room was quite empty, save for Lori at the island and Peter to her left, leaning against the cabinets as he bounced Max in his arms. Lori occupied herself with a stack of small, plastic containers on the counter, each filled with various foods to match their colored lids. "-but he doesn't like peas, so I tried to keep those to a minimum," she was talking when Cassandra entered the room. "I figured we could work those in gradually and see if he changes his mind?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, that's a good idea," Peter agreed, only looking away from Max to give Lori a nod. Though, as he did, he noticed Cassandra lingering just inside the entry. He smiled in greeting, "Good morning. We were wondering when you'd finally get up."</p>
<p>Lori's head shot up, her eyes finding Cassandra's face, and she bared her teeth in one of her terribly infectious smiles as she put down the plastic container in her hands. "Hey, how are you feeling? Any better?"</p>
<p>"Um...no," Cassandra shook her head, allowing the unnatural rasp of her voice to answer both questions. A bit hesitant, she stepped forward, coming to stand beside the island. She bent to lean into the countertop on her forearms aside the containers.</p>
<p>Lori's lips quirked to one side apologetically. "Oh, I'm sorry. Want some tea? That seemed to help last night."</p>
<p>"No, thanks...that's okay," again, Cassandra shook her head. Her fingers fiddled before her as she looked up at Lori. "Actually...I need...a favor. A big one."</p>
<p>In her mind, Lori braced herself. Nothing good ever came from those words leaving Cassandra's lips. And, by the looks of it, she already felt guilty for asking. It would have to truly be big, Lori knew, for her to act so timid requesting it. So, she took a deep breath in through her nostrils and straightened her shoulders. "What's up?" Lori asked, wiping any apprehension from her features.</p>
<p>Cassandra opened her mouth to force more words from her vocal cords but stopped short, her jaw snapping shut as her eyes flicked over Lori's shoulder—landing right on Max's ridiculously sweet face. How could she ask this of her? Lori was a mother now. She had much more to lose than just her own life. It would be incredibly foolish to ask her to take such a large risk. Though, if done right, there was virtually no risk at all.</p>
<p>However, she was not truly confident they could pull it off. But with just the two of them, it would definitely be a lot easier. And there was no one else in the mansion that could help her quite like Lori could. "I...I'm gonna do...something stupid," Cassandra pushed the words past her lips. "But it's gonna...help a lot of...people. And I...need cover. <em>Complete </em>cover."</p>
<p>"You're going after Stark, aren't you?" Bobby's voice preceded him as he entered the kitchen from the opposite end, having caught the last bit of conversation.</p>
<p>Cassandra stared up at him in bewilderment. She'd been the only one in the room with Magneto—how could he possibly know? Did Charles read her mind while she slept? Or, while she was awake, and she hadn't noticed? But, Lori was quick to explain. "Jubilee brought back a flash drive from Magneto's base," she told Cassandra. "Almost got slimed getting it, too."</p>
<p>Bobby continued to press the issue, coming to a halt at the other end of the island, "You're going to do what Magneto wants and blow up that warehouse—tell me I'm wrong."</p>
<p>"Yes. I am. Why...shouldn't I?" Cassandra questioned, pushing off the counter to stand upright.</p>
<p>It was then that Kitty appeared, stepping through the kitchen wall—cupboards and all—to the left of Peter. "Why don't I take Max for a bit?" she offered, quietly, as she looked up at the giant. He nodded and bent to hand over the child, the transfer taking place almost silently in the background as the debate began to boil at the island. And that was precisely why Kitty arrived. She bounced Max as she turned on her heels and exited the kitchen—using the door, this time.</p>
<p>Peter was then free to join the heated discussion, crossing the short distance to stand at the island beside Lori, his arm across her back as his hand rested on her hip. "Because there could be <em>people </em>working in that building," Bobby argued, voice gentle despite the sentiment. "And you're not a killer, Cass—no matter what that jackass thinks."</p>
<p>"It's Stark. Robots build...everything now. I'll make it...empty. But this...has to be...done, before...those things...start working," Cassandra countered.</p>
<p>Lori sighed. "I doubt destroying it will deter him—it might do the opposite. But, it <em>might </em>slow him down?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, and then what? If he's just gonna keep building them, what's the point? That buys us, maybe, a month. We just need to make sure it's worth it first," Bobby rested his palms against the counter, leaning on them lightly as he spoke.</p>
<p>Cassandra understood both sides of this argument. There were many reasons not to do it, but there were just as many reasons to go through with it. Ultimately, it was up to whomever agreed to help. Anyone else's opinion didn't really matter—not in the grand scheme of it all. This wasn't war. This was <em>chess</em>. Every move had to be thought out and strategized for the optimal result.</p>
<p>Sometimes, daring moves put them closer on the board to the queen. Sometimes, it lost them another piece. They'd all lost far too many pieces already to take many more chances. For Lori, there was an additional piece to consider. Though, her abilities did come in quite handy in these kinds of situations—and adding Cassandra's teleportation created an arguably lethal duo.</p>
<p>She tipped her head to look up at Peter, trying her best to convey the internal questions of her mind through her features. He understood her confliction. He'd felt some of it himself when the professor told him he'd been requested for Cassandra's mission. It was a simultaneous peace and terror that rushed through his rib cage every time he was told to suit up, without fail. That was the life they lived, he knew. That feeling would never truly go away.</p>
<p>Peter exhaled through his nostrils, hand tightening on Lori's hip as he pulled her closer against his side. "If you believe it's the right thing to do, you have to do it," he told her. "But if you don't—stay."</p>
<p>Lori nodded as her eyes fell briefly to the countertop. Just long enough to collect herself with another deep breath, relaxing her shoulders as she exhaled. "Alright. I'll cover you," she agreed, moving her eyes to meet Cassandra's.</p>
<p>"Thank you," Cassandra tilted her head, an apologetic echo to the way her features slumped.</p>
<p>Bobby sighed heavily and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Scott's gonna blow someone's head off," he mumbled.</p>
<p>"He's not...gonna know," Cassandra shook her head.</p>
<p>"You're not gonna tell anyone you're doing this?" Bobby's voice rose increasingly with an oncoming panic. "What if you guys get caught? Or nearly blow <em>yourselves </em>to bits?"</p>
<p>"That's why…" Cassandra began walking around the arch of the island. When she reached Bobby's side, she slung her arm over his shoulder, forcing him to lean to the left a bit. "...we have <em>you</em>."</p>
<p>Bobby only looked down at her with a displeased expression as rue tightened his stomach. The senior members of the team would be absolutely furious. So, naturally, the idea that he would be the one forced to tell them Cassandra's terrible plan didn't sit well with his nerves. He knew what she could accomplish when focused, how much damage she could cause—though, he also knew how easily it could all get away from her.</p>
<p>His only hope was that Lori could keep her mind in the right place. It would be easy to suit up and disappear without any of the others noticing. Cassandra took Lori to the dressing room in the bat of an eyelash. Lori hadn't worn her suit in almost two years—since before Max's arrival—but putting it on was like riding a bicycle. It needed to stretch in a few places it hadn't before, though it still fit rather well.</p>
<p>"Do you know where we're going?" she asked, tugging on her other glove.</p>
<p>Cassandra zipped her suit up over the bandaging at the back of her neck. "I saw a...picture of it," she replied. "Should be enough."</p>
<p>"And you know what you're doing once we get there?"</p>
<p>"I'm blowing it up."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. a porcupine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The line between moral and immoral had always been mutable. It remained in focus, but was subject to change—evolving and devolving as the time passed to better suit the beliefs of society. Though, what one was willing to accept and willing to change were two different animals. People like Scott Summers and Charles Xavier were willing to accept the threats they faced, but refused to do what was necessary to truly change that reality.</p>
<p>Getting her hands dirty never bothered Cassandra as much as it should have. She'd learned to accept the threats to her rights, her family, her very <em>life</em>. And she was more than willing to shift the line and insight change. It was that willingness that truly made her dangerous in the eyes of most of the X-Men. Who was to say she wouldn't some day think as radically as Magneto and kill thousands of people?</p>
<p>However, she was no loose canon. Not as they believed her to be, that is. Even for Cassandra, there were limits. She understood the difference between hurting Stark, and hurting innocent men and women simply doing their best to earn a paycheck, to provide for their families. So, she took the time to raise her hand, palm flat to the wind as she searched for energy signals within the facility.</p>
<p>The building was rather large—it had to be, in order to construct the enormous machines. Although, despite its size, the only energy inside was generated from the conveyor belts and metallic assembly lines. She could feel it all. Sparks from welders bounced as they touched the floor, metal arms lifted heavy pieces from one belt to the next, the inner mechanics of it all working tirelessly to complete its automated designations.</p>
<p>"It's empty," Cassandra shook her head, letting her hand fall into her lap as she remained crouched. Her other hand pressed into the outer wall of another warehouse as she twisted on the balls of her feet to see the teammate behind her. "Not even...a janitor."</p>
<p>Lori's features were coiled with worry and anxiety, her hand clamped a little too hard over Cassandra's shoulder. "Do you even have enough energy to do this?"</p>
<p>"Are you kidding? There's...enough energy...in there to...blow half of...L.A.," Cassandra replied, before swallowing hard. Her throat had not quite begun getting better yet. It was still sore, aching and burning at the back, and the cuts stung beneath their bandages. The pain forced her worn vocal chords and slightly swollen windpipe to sound as though she were perpetually out of breath and needed to cough.</p>
<p>The idea that Cassandra was too weakened for something like this was not a far-fetched one. However, she was prepared for <em>this </em>moment of exertion—and the energy she would be using was not entirely her own. It was a devious thought, to turn Stark's creation against him, and it fed a bitter beast in the pit of her stomach. Lori sighed nervously, but nodded. "Just keep it contained. Stay on message."</p>
<p>Cassandra returned the nod before turning on her feet, once again perched to see around the corner of the wall. As she outstretched her hand, palm facing the warehouse, Lori's grip on her shoulder was like a kind of tether. A reminder. <em>Keep it contained</em>. The words bounced around inside her head, heat surging through the nerves in her fingers. Her skin began to spark, lavender wisps sizzling, as she focused on the energy inside the warehouse.</p>
<p>Blowing up a building this way was easy. All she would have to do was cause one machine to combust. Maybe one more for good measure. Then, it was a chain reaction that engulfed the rest of the warehouse, setting the insides ablaze. Fire would engulf the building and feast on it until it was nothing but ash—or, at least, until first responders arrived to douse whatever was left.</p>
<p>So, that's what she did. Energy surged inside the gears of the conveyor belts and the metal <em>cracked</em>. The motor burst and set fire as the joints of the arms popped and sizzled, whirring before breaking apart. She singled out the energy of all the sentinels' parts and ignited them. Each piece was overwhelmed, shattering apart in small explosions, and the loud pops could be heard from outside.</p>
<p>Lori jolted, startled by the sudden sound, but she maintained her grip on Cassandra—if anything, it <em>tightened</em>. The sounds of the explosions reached them in waves, one after the other. Then, fire and spark and shrapnel was thrusted through the metal roof. Flames gushed up in a fan, smoke tangling in with it all, as the ear-piercing boom caused Cassandra to blink in a flinch. Though, it was the only reaction that would come from her.</p>
<p>She could feel the unrest—the flames crawled, crackled, and whipped their way across the warehouse, dangerously close to fuel sources and even more flammable materials. It was enough, she knew. Arguably, much more than that. But there was a bitterness in her veins, an unparalleled anger that urged her to continue, begged her for more of the fire, more of the chaos, more <em>damage</em>. It wanted nothing less than a heap of ashes to smile down at triumphantly, promising a bounty of fulfillment and pride upon completion.</p>
<p>However, Lori's words still floated through her mind, softly fluttering around her thoughts. <em>Keep it contained</em>. They were sensible words, words of reason—words she should listen to. A bit hesitant, she retracted her hand and relinquished control of the energy within the warehouse. "That should do it," Cassandra nodded a bit, almost to herself, and tossed her gaze over her shoulder. "Ready to go?"</p>
<p>Lori nodded quickly. "Before I start regretting everything."</p>
<hr/>
<p>It was hard not to be angered—no, <em>enraged</em>—by Cassandra's choice of action. Logan paced in a fury along the long hallways of the mansion's first floor as he waited for her return. He'd gone to her room to check on her once more for good measure, despite being there for most of the early morning, and her brothers explained her absence. She'd gone to look for someone.</p>
<p>So, naturally, Logan went to find the one person she might be looking for. <em>Bobby</em>. Though he did put up a decent face at first, Bobby cracked like old clay and divulged the details of her secret mission. She'd left the mansion to wreak havoc on a Stark Industries warehouse somewhere in California. It was not a surprise that she wanted it kept secret. After all, most of the X-Men would've told her to stay put. Insisted that they go instead.</p>
<p>Even understanding her reasoning, the mission was morally reprehensible at best, and the possible danger was more than worrisome. How could she get up after nearly being strangled to death and leave to blow up a warehouse? Bobby explained that Lori had gone with her for cover, to keep them both safe—but it didn't relieve the knot in his stomach like it should have.</p>
<p>So, he paced as he huffed, preparing a vicious reprimand, a firm questioning for her return. After all he'd confessed to her, he didn't expect her to keep him in the loop of whatever she had planned moving forward. Though, this felt like much more than that. Something like this could potentially come back on all mutants negatively if it was found out who was to blame for the damage.</p>
<p>But, then—his feet stopped. A faint thumping touched his ears. She had returned. Logan was quick to turn on his heels and march swiftly to the elevator. As the doors sealed shut, it felt as though he'd been locked in a coffin with his anger, his concern. It was stifling, suffocating, and it only tightened his chest once the doors reopened. In truth, he held no malice against her, nor did he blame her for wanting some kind of justice, some <em>revenge</em>.</p>
<p>That's exactly what he would want, and he knew he would follow through with it. But it was not Logan, it was <em>Cassandra</em>. She could not heal like he could. She wasn't all but bullet proof. If something were to happen to her, she would never return, and the terror of that knowledge was what propelled him as he continued into the silver hall, taking a left to find his way to the dressing room.</p>
<p>Cassandra had reappeared where she'd come from, Lori right beside her, still holding on tightly. Lori only peeled her fingers away once she was firmly on the grounds of their base. Even then, she was hesitant, careful in letting go. "<em>Cassandra</em>," Logan's voice bellowed into the small room from the hall.</p>
<p>"Do you want me to stay?" Lori asked, looking quickly to Cassandra.</p>
<p>But Cassandra shook her head and exhaled a heavy breath. "Get changed and go find Max. I'm sure he misses you."</p>
<p>"Are you sure-"</p>
<p>"What the hell were you thinkin', kid?" Logan appeared in the doorway, his words like a knife through Lori's sentence. She didn't hesitate to leave, then, with her change of clothes in hand. Lori had seen him in a rage many more times than she would like—and it was the last thing she wanted to deal with today.</p>
<p>Cassandra waited as Lori skirted quickly around Logan, disappearing into the hallway after exiting the room. "It had to be done," she answered finally, her voice matching her features as they sank with tiredness. "<em>Something</em> did."</p>
<p>"And it <em>had </em>to be you? You could've killed yourself, in the state you're in."</p>
<p>"I'm not stupid—I didn't <em>create </em>anything, I just redirected what was already there," Cassandra argued. Though, she wasn't quite arguing as she could've been. Her voice was relatively normal, despite the newly added hostility, and she felt no need to raise it. She was <em>tired</em>. After everything, she was simply tired.</p>
<p>Logan exhaled a deep breath through his nose as a bull preparing to chase a matador, and then he was moving forward, walking closer. Cassandra took a careful step back—but she was held still as his arms engulfed her, pulling her against his chest in an effort to reassure himself. She was okay. She was safe. The action caused Cassandra to pause for a quiet moment.</p>
<p>In the past, she wouldn't have hesitated to return the hug—she most likely would've been the one to initiate it. Now, her chest swirled with uncertain emotions and she was frozen, paralyzed by it as her throat began to burn. "I'm alright," she spoke quietly, as if timid.</p>
<p>He sighed. "I know. I know."</p>
<p>His voice vibrated through his chest, the warmth of the embrace starting to reach her, and for a moment Cassandra gave in. It felt <em>comfortable</em>. Her arms reached up, palms resting gently against the sides of his shoulders. Logan knew he should let go, step back as not to push her away further, but he couldn't. His instinct was to keep her there. To hold on as long as he possibly could and keep her where it was safe, to shield her from whatever danger might come for them next.</p>
<p>Cassandra stood still and waited in the quiet, unable to gather the strength needed for full words. Though, it didn't last long at all. Scott stepped into the doorway and immediately cleared his throat, no patience left for pleasantries. "You're wanted in the professor's office," he said, his voice firm to hide his current disdain. "<em>Now</em>."</p>
<p>Cassandra stepped back instinctively, wriggling out of Logan's hold, and the Wolverine turned to face his teammate with a scowl settled into his hardened features. "Can't you fuck off for five goddamn minutes?" he all but growled, tone rhetorical amongst its venom.</p>
<p>Scott huffed a quiet, humorless chuckle. "We've had enough people fucking off for one day, Logan."</p>
<p>He turned and left the room without another word. Cassandra rolled her eyes as she turned away to unzip her suit, pulling her arms from the sleeves before grabbing her sweater. Logan sighed heavily as he continued to face the exit—away from her. "I would've killed him by now if I didn't know the professor would melt my brain for tryin'."</p>
<p>"Knock yourself out," Cassandra mumbled, head popping through the hole of her sweater. "It would grow back."</p>
<p>"Yeah. Except memories don't, remember?"</p>
<p>Her hands slowed but she kept moving as her thoughts drifted away—taking the organ in the left side of her chest with them. Arms slid into sleeves, legs into jeans, as she dressed numbly. Nothing was quite so light-hearted anymore. Somewhere within, she cared for Logan. But her mind was still so <em>jarred</em>. It was hard to act as though it hadn't affected her and, even though Logan didn't expect her to, she expected it from herself.</p>
<p>However, it'd been a long time since she'd been able to fulfill her own expectations. So long that she questioned the reasoning for creating new ones at all. Even still, she did want to move on from the conversation, to resolve it somehow. Though, the one person who could help her, she couldn't bring herself to ask. After all, she was about to get a stern talking to from him. "Sure would be easier." The words slipped past her lips as she folded the leather, placing it on a shelf.</p>
<p>Logan's head instinctively turned, eyes finding her face as his brows knitted. It was true. He, of all people, knew just how easy it was to not remember. Though, in forgetting the bad, he forgot the good—and that was something he couldn't risk happening again. Cassandra didn't know the untreatable pain of forgetting and remembering it all, only the constant ache of knowing it all now. "Sounds like it would," he exhaled, turning to face her. "But it's a band-aid on a bullet wound. You're still bleedin'—you just <em>think </em>it helps."</p>
<p>"Well, maybe...maybe I <em>need </em>a band-aid? Maybe a band-aid...is all I have? I could <em>really</em>...use a band-aid, Logan."</p>
<p>Cassandra walked by him without another word, without a pause for response. She simply left the room. Logan stood in a moment of silence after her departure, hands resting on his hips as he sighed heavily. There were not words he could offer her that she would appreciate, nothing he could do to ease the pain she felt—he was utterly useless. Though, even if he did somehow respond, Cassandra didn't know what she would do.</p>
<p>She took the elevator to the main floor of the mansion. It gave her an extra few moments to reign herself in, swallow the burn in the back of her throat, and prepare herself for what was surely to come. Then, she was headed to the professor's office. Her feet carried her along, fingernails digging into her palms through the ends of her sleeves. The reasoning for this call to the principal's office was more than obvious. Understandably, she would be questioned on her actions.</p>
<p>Though, what she could truly anticipate was hostility. Regardless of what she'd done, that's always what she had received from the adults, and it hadn't changed as she'd aged. Bobby stood outside the closed door of the office as Cassandra approached. A pang of guilt hit his chest as he noticed her arrival. "I'm sorry, I tried to keep it quiet-" he pushed off the wall, stepping toward her, but she stopped him.</p>
<p>"They were gonna find out...either way," she interrupted, as she came to stand in front of him. Shrugging, she added, "I'm going home...after this. I don't...care what happens."</p>
<p>"You don't have to go, you know."</p>
<p>With a closed-mouthed smile, bittersweetly quirked to the left, she nodded. "Yeah, I do. You're about to hear why."</p>
<p>She stepped around him to reach the door. It swung open with a soft whine of its hinges, and she entered the office with Bobby following close behind. Charles sat in his chair behind the desk, Storm sat in one of the chairs in front of it, while Scott and Lori stood on opposite sides of the room. Peter, Kitty, and Jubilee stood beside Lori in an anxious huddle, all feeling the stress of the meeting as if each had been called instead.</p>
<p>As the door closed, Cassandra stood near the center of the office, and Bobby moved to join his friends near the window. "You know why you're here," Charles spoke first, with a small nod of his head.</p>
<p>Cassandra stared at him blankly, arms loosely folded over her chest. "How many...actually believe...it was unnecessary?"</p>
<p>"I'm afraid this isn't as simple as it may seem," Charles replied. "Your actions today were reckless, destructive, and have put all of us here at risk. The apathy you display toward what you've done today is only one problem on a very long list."</p>
<p>"What do you want? An apology? You're not getting one," she shook her head.</p>
<p>It was then that Logan pushed through the door, entering the office. The entrance drew the eyes of some, but those in charge were unphased, remaining focused on the task at hand. He closed the door behind him and stood there. Listening. Watching. Waiting. Though he didn't announce himself, Cassandra assumed he'd finally caught up from the basement.</p>
<p>"Expressing some kind of remorse would be a start—but, Cassandra, this is only a sign of a much larger issue that needs to be addressed," Charles continued, calmly, but with a tone of seriousness Cassandra found almost laughable.</p>
<p>"Oh. Here we are. The part where...you tell me I'm fucked up. Where you take...<em>no</em> responsibility...whatsoever," Cassandra let her arms fall to her sides, anger bubbling up in the pit of her gut beginning to warm her chest.</p>
<p>Scott scoffed. "Why would Charles take responsibility for <em>your </em>actions?"</p>
<p>"You arrogant prick," she shook her head, meeting his gaze with her own only for a moment. Then, she was looking at Charles again, taking a step toward the desk. "You really need me...to <em>tell </em>you? You've made it <em>very </em>clear how...dangerous I was since the moment...I got here. You pressured me. Made me terrified of myself. Then, abandoned me when I needed you. And now you wanna come at me with that 'this is a problem' bullshit? You wanna air this out right now, in front of everyone?"</p>
<p>Cassandra's eyes were white hot, boring into the professor's as her tone turned <em>venomous</em>. Anger had turned to rage, the heat coursing quickly through her veins with a jolt of adrenaline, forcing her lungs to work much faster than they were capable after being choked. But she held her ground regardless, forcing it down with a hard swallow as Charles remained silent. He stared up at her defiantly—though, his features were sympathetic. No, <em>apologetic</em>.</p>
<p>She stood a foot behind the chairs at the front of his desk, fingers curling into fists. "I lost my <em>mother</em>. I lost all contact with my brothers for <em>years</em>. I was a grieving child, and you gave me <em>nothing</em>. Then, the word's out I have other powers, and you told me I shouldn't use them. Even in the fucking <em>danger room</em>. Rogue kills people she touches, yet you give her gloves and tell <em>her </em>she's <em>special</em>. I show you who I really am and you tell me to sit down and keep it to <em>myself</em>."</p>
<p>The silence was thick, tangible as her words hung between them all. Cassandra's lungs burned, her throat dry and raw, threatening to turn her voice hoarse. But she was too angry to stop herself. Too enraged to calm down. Charles sat back in his chair as he swallowed thickly. She was telling the truth, he knew. And he could see now just how it all must look.</p>
<p>Yes, Cassandra was different. She was powerful, and her unchecked emotions would certainly get her into trouble—but the only way any of them knew how to handle her, was to push for a kind of abstinence. Teaching her to rely on other skills. Other abilities. However, she had not yet explained it all, and Charles could sense the unrest within her. It irradiated the room, anger and resentment and hurt coming off her in waves.</p>
<p>"Be happy, calm down, stop crying—I was unallowed to <em>feel</em>, Charles. And when I pulled away, you pushed me harder. I was on a fucking <em>leash</em>," Cassandra's voice was risen, capable of full sentences only through rage strong enough to dilute the pain it caused. "When Jean died? The only one who actually gave a shit was Logan. Where the <em>fuck </em>were the rest of you? Where were <em>you</em>, Scott? I agreed with Magneto on one fucking issue, and each and every one of you <em>shunned </em>me. I'd lost you all <em>long </em>before I came back here. So, tell me again what a big problem this is."</p>
<p>Charles's eyes fell to the wood of his desk. Everyone else in the room seemed to have the same idea—all eyes on the floor, the wall, the ceiling. Anywhere but at each other. Trying to keep Cassandra's emotions stable was handled poorly, though done with good intentions. However, the other accusations? They couldn't be so easily explained or excused. Scott's chest tightened with conviction and guilt, his mind racing back to one singular moment. The moment he began looking at her with malice to avoid looking at his own pain.</p>
<p>Pride kept his mouth shut, jaw tight, shoulders tensed, but the guilt turned his stomach sour, softening his eyes behind the red lenses of his glasses. The silence from all in the room only cemented Cassandra's convictions. She straightened her shoulders and forced her fingers to loosen, knuckles aching from the strength keeping them bent. No reply she could receive would repair this damage. Not today.</p>
<p>Charles was well aware of that fact. But, still, he looked up, meeting her gaze with features weighed heavily with regrets and sorrow. "I sensed your power when you first arrived. I did my best to help you control it, but I never intended to cause you pain—and, for that, I am truly sorry. You've always been a bit of a porcupine. I never knew when to get closer and when to keep my distance. But I've <em>always </em>thought of you as a-"</p>
<p>"I don't care anymore, Charles. Your words mean nothing to me," Cassandra shook her head, stepping back from the desk. "I'm taking my brothers home and then what I do with what I know...will be <em>my </em>business."</p>
<p>"And, the warehouse?" Scott inquired of the incident calmly, stoically.</p>
<p>Cassandra paused to eye him for a moment. After everything he'd heard, he still couldn't simply let her leave. He wanted the final word. No, <em>needed </em>it—something to regain his innocence amongst the dirty waters of the conversation as someone only worried about the effect on the rest of the mutants. He needed that shield, to protect himself from the raging <em>guilt</em>.</p>
<p>"I bought you time—fucking <em>use </em>it."</p>
<p>Her voice was wearing thin, crackling and rumbling like a fire, and it burned the walls of her throat all the same. It couldn't take much more, she knew. So, she turned on her heels and exited the office—and no one dared speak another word until she was gone. Though, the interaction, getting those words off her chest, didn't make her feel any lighter. If anything, the vocal acknowledgment left her with only another dull ache.</p>
<p>Another lump in her throat to swallow. Another mixture of sorrow and guilt to sort and store away. There was no easy way for her mind to process the events of the last forty-eight hours and, at this point, she'd given up trying. All she needed to know now was that it hurt, and she needed to distance herself from it. Maybe then the pain would stop? Maybe if she went far enough, for long enough, she would feel better this time? Maybe someday she could come back and explain it all and make amends—but that was not today. And that was okay.</p>
<p>It didn't have to be today, or tomorrow, a week from now, or a month down the road. She whispered those words to herself as she walked away numbly from the office, wringing her hands as she held them against her chest. For a moment, she thought about what she might look like to the young eyes wandering up at her as they passed. But that didn't matter either, did it?</p>
<p>The silence within Charles's office did not last as long as he'd hoped. There was too much to digest, too much to consider, to be focusing on nursing Scott's damaged ego. He only sighed in response to the words being exchanged. "Does she not realize how serious this is?" Scott questioned, glancing around the room. "What happens when Stark starts investigating this?"</p>
<p>"We won't be on the security footage. I kept us hidden the whole time," Lori replied. She fought to keep from rolling her eyes at his words. Did he genuinely think she was so unintelligent? Of course she would hide them. After all, it would be the only reason to bring her along in the first place.</p>
<p>Peter's arm around her shoulders was the only thing holding her back, reminding her to stay calm despite the rush of disdain for how the situation was handled. "We know, honey. But I think it is important to consider infrared scanning. If they can't find a culprit—who's to say they won't try it and discover you both were there?" Storm tried to be rational, twisting in her chair to see them all.</p>
<p>Scott nodded, vindicated. "Exactly."</p>
<p>"Then we handle it. That's what we <em>do</em>," Logan's voice was low from the back of the room. Anger, frustration, irritation, rage—a swirl of these things lingered beneath the surface of his tone, reined in in an attempt to stay calm. "Doesn't <em>anyone </em>see a problem with what just happened, right in front of us?"</p>
<p>Logan's eyes shifted to Charles, and the professor stiffened as a pang of guilt smacked him square between the eyes. Yes, he did. He saw many problems. Though, the biggest of them all, was that no one knew how to fix any of them. How to properly repair what had been done. Charles had made a promise to Cassandra when she was a teenager, that he would never read her mind without permission.</p>
<p>He'd kept that promise no matter how many times he got curious, or thought it might be easier to take a peek, but he was beginning to wonder just how he could keep it now. How could he fix what he couldn't see? "I've tried for many years to break through her hard exterior, Logan. If anything, it appears she only hardened it," Charles spoke reservedly.</p>
<p>Scott shrugged, shaking his head. "Maybe she just needed more training-?"</p>
<p>"She needed a <em>father</em>!" the rage broke through in Logan's voice, his angered shout eliciting a collective startle as he stepped toward the desk. "Can you not pull your heads out of your asses for one fuckin' minute—<em>either</em> of you? Who did she idolize? Who did she look up to? <em>You</em>! Since neither of you can learn your fuckin' lesson—what you just saw was a broken little girl begging for her father figures to love her enough to <em>step up</em>. And they fuckin' failed her again. This might not be personal to <em>you</em>, but it sure as hell is for <em>her</em>."</p>
<p>It was then that Kitty entered the conversation, drawing all eyes amidst the tension. "Y'know, she acted tough and everyone thought she was a rebel, and that was fun sometimes—but she just wanted you guys to know her well enough to see that wasn't true like the rest of us."</p>
<hr/>
<p>It was all over the evening news, every headline the same—<em>explosion at Stark Industries warehouse</em>. This was to be expected. The media would find out, they would spread the story far and wide through every step, but they would never know a culprit. After all, it was Stark Industries. Tony Stark himself was practically <em>always </em>in the news in some form or another.</p>
<p>"This is fine," she whispered. Then, she reached up a hand, swiping her cheek with the back of it. But it only smeared the water around. "I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm...<em>okay</em>."</p>
<p>The words didn't sound right. It didn't sound like her voice—but, in fact, it was. They were her words, her voice spoken, her laptop displaying the breaking news, her bed she remained curled up in. Her anger, her fear, her guilt. It was all so painfully <em>hers</em>. Sniffling hard, she closed the laptop and shoved it off her thighs, instead reaching for the paper on the nightstand.</p>
<p>Her fingers trembled, shaking the paper, as she unfolded it in her lap. Daring herself to read it one more time. Maybe if she did, it would be different? Maybe the words would change? Maybe she would see that she was wrong? But the words were the same as every other time she'd forced herself to pick it up. It hadn't changed—and it never would.</p>
<p>
  <em>Dearest Cassandra,</em>
</p>
<p><em>I am truly sorry for the hurt this will undoubtedly cause, but it must be done. If I were to be found out while being with you, you would be put in danger. If I stayed and all was well, we could be happy together for a while, but you would grow old hundreds of years before I. I will lose you either way.</em><br/>It is best that I leave and you continue your life as it was, working with those flowers you adore so much. I truly believe you will be happier. You will be safer. And I will remember you, as you were. If you've made it to the end, I have no doubts that you hate me. Please know that, for as long as my heart beats, it will always beat for you. For however many more thousands of years I live and breathe, I will love only you. I thank you, wholeheartedly, for teaching me what that word truly meant.<br/>-L</p>
<p>A droplet splashed against the end of the letter, soaking into the paper over the L, and Cassandra sat upright. She tossed the paper back onto the nightstand and scrubbed her face—but hot water seared her cheeks, pouring from her eyes, surging up from somewhere deep within her chest. It was painful, the hurt that gripped her throat. Though, a part of her felt foolish for allowing it to hurt at all.</p>
<p>She knew this was coming, didn't she? She knew to expect this. Something always happened to the people she loved and, one way or another, she always ended up without them. This was no surprise. So, why did it feel so terrible? Cassandra stayed in her bed for the rest of the day. There was nothing pushing her out, forcing her to be productive—not even a full bladder or empty stomach was enough to get her moving.</p>
<p>Instead, she simply wallowed in it as a guttural feeling of emptiness covered her like a thick blanket, a warm hand that reached up to embrace her form and pull her deeper inside. Then, a picture before her eyes—Loki's shirt. Her body shook violently but she pushed herself upright and swung her legs off the bed, moving too much too fast not to be dizzied. But she wasn't about to stop.</p>
<p>Cassandra slid off the bed and pattered across the room to her closet. She'd hung it there, not many days before. And, as she pulled open the door, there it was. Hanging in the same place. Snuggled in between two sweaters. She reached up a hand and pulled the button-down from the hanger before closing the closet door once more. It and the letter were all she had now.</p>
<p>In some ways, it was almost laughable how she'd come full circle. Though, now she was truly waiting on someone that would never come, and she had proof. The left of her chest, painfully empty, twinged as she forced her hands through the sleeves and pulled the shirt onto her shoulders. Then, she crawled back onto the sheets of her bed, kicking her feet beneath the wadded comforter. And she lay still. The scent from the fabric wafted up, reaching her nostrils.</p>
<p>She was tempted to take it off. But it was <em>him</em>—a tiny piece, a little reminder, a small comfort. So she kept it, wrapping her arms around herself to cocoon within as the sun set beneath the view of her window.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. you've already met</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Leigh sat behind the counter on a stool, balancing its uneven legs as she stared intently at the phone screen. She held it sideways in her hand, one earbud in her ear, the other dangling freely from the place where both cords met. Today was a slow day for the flower shop. There hadn't been any special orders in the past few days, and there weren't many walk-in's either. Though, Leigh didn't mind the calm.</p><p>Cassandra, however, was restless. She worked tirelessly to rearrange the bouquets, wiping off the display tables and various shelves. Now, she pushed a broom across the concrete flooring and Leigh's eyes followed her along the width of the store. "Claire, that's the third time you've swept in two hours," Leigh spoke up, tugging the cord of her earbud to better hear a response.</p><p>"It's just always so dusty in here," Cassandra sighed, turning to push the broom back across the store. "Do we have a bucket? I think I might scrub the floor."</p><p>"Scrub the floor? Why on Earth would you do that?"</p><p>Cassandra stopped, thrusting an open palm out to gesture toward the murky gray beneath her feet. "It's disgusting! Who would wanna come in here when it looks like this?"</p><p>"Uh...okay," Leigh stared at her quizzically despite the normalcy of her tone. "I think there's a bucket in the back. Want me to get it?"</p><p>"No, that's okay, I got it."</p><p>Leigh's eyes followed her once more as Cassandra continued on her quest, pushing what little she'd swept together to a corner to rest the broom, before stepping into the back room. It was such peculiar behavior. Leigh had never seen Cassandra act so scattered, so obviously not alright. Although, this was Leigh's first shift in almost two months.</p><p>Before she left for a much-needed vacation, Leigh did notice Cassandra seemed a little down. But that had never manifested into a germaphobe-esque assault on the store. Leigh sighed and shook her head, plucking her earbud off her lap and reinserting it to continue watching the news. Today's episode of <em>The Eddie Brock Report</em> was centered on the Stark Industries warehouse explosion investigation.</p><p>Government officials had been spotted coming and going from Stark Tower while the security at the warehouse site was scaled up, with armed National Guardsmen in and outside the fenced facility. Across the board, it did not look good—but it was especially popular for those already critical of Stark's military connections. He claimed to have stopped selling weapons. So, then, why did the government care what happened to a warehouse? What was inside?</p><p>These were questions the lead journalist, Eddie Brock, was asking, filming outside the tall fence surrounding the torched warehouse. The building was still standing, though aerial photos taken by drone suggested the brunt of the fire was met by whatever was housed inside. Some on the internet theorized it was another weapon, others suggested things like UFOs and flying cars. Leigh wasn't sure how much of any of it she believed—if anything at all.</p><p>But the coverage had all but died out on every other network, all while new details were still coming to light. It was not surprising just how fast the story died. Leigh startled, wobbling on the uneven stool, at the sound of a loud <em>clank</em>. As she looked up from her phone, Cassandra was just coming back from the storeroom with a bucket of sudsy water and a scrubber.</p><p>"You know, I'm all for getting out some anger while being productive at the same time," Leigh said, sliding off the stool. "But you're gonna be on your knees all afternoon."</p><p>Cassandra lowered herself to the concrete, tucking her legs beneath her, and sunk her scrubber in the sudsy water. "It's fine, Leigh—it's not like we have customers waiting."</p><p>Leigh leaned into the counter, forearms pressing down on the countertop to peer over the edge at Cassandra, her phone and earbuds resting beside her elbow. "What's going on with you? Did I miss something?" she questioned, confusion and curiosity getting the better of her.</p><p>"No. I just feel like <em>doing </em>things, you know?" Cassandra shook her head, scrubbing the concrete in front of her. "I can't take all this sitting around."</p><p>It was then that their recurring customer, Phil, walked into the shop. Leigh stood upright and plastered on a polite smile—but confusion screwed her brows. She glanced to the left, to the small calendar hanging near the register. Was it really Tuesday already? Or, was it Thursday? "Good afternoon, Phil. What brings you in today?" Leigh asked him. She ignored the oddity for the sake of a paying customer, turning her eyes back to him as he approached.</p><p>He came to stand two feet from Cassandra, still on her knees in front of the counter. "I was in the neighborhood and had a question about flowers, thought I'd stop by and ask one of my favorite florists," Phil replied. Then, he peered down at Cassandra. "You look pretty busy down there. Would you mind if I bothered you for a minute?"</p><p>Cassandra looked up, sitting back on her heels. "Um, no, of course. What's your question?"</p><p>She pushed herself up from the concrete and dusted off the knees of her jeans. Phil sidestepped, turning halfway before gesturing a hand toward the door. "Walk with me," he instructed, casually, before walking toward the door. Cassandra looked to Leigh questioningly. Though, Leigh had as many answers as Cassandra did. Another behavior on the list of odd things Leigh had seen today.</p><p>But, Leigh simply shrugged. They knew Phil fairly well at this point. He never gave any indication he could be harmful—however, just in case, Cassandra told herself she wouldn't go farther than the corner. Humoring him, she followed him through the door of the shop and down the sidewalk to the right. "I'm sorry this is so sudden, but we have reason to believe you may be in danger," Phil suddenly spoke, abruptly stopping two stores away.</p><p>Cassandra stopped quickly so as not to run right into the back of him. "You- what?" she questioned, features knitting, perplexed but the odd words. "Who is 'we'?"</p><p>"My name is Agent Phil Coulson, I work for S.H.I.E.L.D.," Phil dug a hand into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, before unearthing a badge. He held it open to her for viewing as he continued, "Your brother, Clint Barton, is an agent as well. He's been compromised, and is currently missing. We need to bring you in to assure your safety while we track him down."</p><p>Her heart dropped, sloshing her stomach, and she fought to swallow. The badge looked ridiculously real. Though, what he said about Clint was much more concerning. Clint told her he worked a government job that kept him away from home a lot. It required travel, he'd said. And was very top secret. "What happened? Why is he missing?" she quickly asked, tongue tripping over itself to get each word out as they spilled from her lips.</p><p>Phil tucked his badge back into his suit jacket pocket. "I'm afraid I can't share many details with you right now, but we don't believe him to be injured. It's standard procedure to bring in any pertinent friends or family for safety."</p><p>"B-but- the store-"</p><p>"You're feeling sick. You're going to take the rest of the day off," Phil instructed her calmly. "Meet me here, outside, and I'll escort you to your apartment for an overnight bag. Then we'll get you to a safe location."</p><p>Cassandra wrapped her arms around herself as shuffled back a step, eyes wary as she began to fill with worries. This didn't seem right. What if this was somehow connected to the warehouse? What if they'd discovered it was her, and this was simply a ruse to get her into custody? Her apprehension visible, Phil swallowed thickly—but he remained otherwise calm. "I'm sorry- why should I trust you? This all <em>sounds </em>real, but I don't know you. How do I know you're not just a well-educated stalker?" she questioned him.</p><p>"Cassandra Barton, twenty-four, daughter of Harold and Edith Barton—younger sister to one of our best agents, Clint Barton. A mutant with powers of teleportation. Pardoned in two-thousand-five for crimes such as murder and domestic terrorism. A stalker couldn't know half of this information without government affiliation."</p><p>He spoke almost robotically. Repeating something memorized, she assumed—though, it was the mention of those specific details that ran a shiver down her spine. Why would he bring up these things, and not others? Was it truly just to prove a point? She felt so paranoid, appendages trembling against the sudden anxiety. But there was one part of his statement that caught her attention in particular.</p><p>Agent Coulson only listed off one ability. Did the government somehow not know, or was he simply uninformed? Either way, it could work to her advantage should this be a snare. So, she nodded, and inhaled deeply. "Okay, just...give me a minute."</p><p>He nodded in return, and she turned on her heels. It was all so sudden, the timing and substance maddening. But she played the part well. Her feet carried her back inside the shop, visibly exhaling with drooped features, a hand resting on her hip. Leigh perked up at the counter, elbows atop the glass. "So? What did he want?" she asked, more than a little intrigued.</p><p>"Oh, it was nothing—his wife has a begonia that's not doing well, so I gave him some tips to bring it back," Cassandra lied through her teeth, coming to stand at the counter. "You know, I'm actually not feeling very well. I don't know what's going on with me today."</p><p>"Really? Oh, I'm sorry. You know what? Take the day off," Leigh sat upright, tilting her head sympathetically.</p><p>Cassandra looked apologetic. "Are you sure?"</p><p>"Of course—go take a soak in the tub and get some sleep. Hopefully, you'll feel better tomorrow," Leigh said. "I can handle the shop today."</p><p>"Thank you so much, Leigh. You're too good to me."</p><p>Cassandra's features remained drooped as she shuffled to the back room, forcing herself to slow down. It would be hard to sell the act if she ran in and out as though she were in perfect health. Though, the urge to do so was overwhelming. She gritted her teeth as she slung her purse on her shoulder and grabbed hold of her bike, before walking it through the store to the exit. She thanked Leigh again to further sell it.</p><p>But Leigh had seen something wrong with her already—the sudden ill feelings were no surprise to her. No, they simply made sense. It connected dots across the odd behavior of the afternoon to form a solid picture in her mind that kept her calm and unsuspecting. Cassandra walked her bicycle outside and down the sidewalk where Coulson still stood. He turned to walk with her, the pair moving somewhat quickly along the concrete.</p><p>Cassandra's skin crawled, her eyes flickering around, taking note of every detail, sound, and passerby as she traveled. There was no chance that she'd put trust in this man. He seemed polite and respectable, but even the idea of him working for the government put a sour taste on her tongue, coloring her positive view of him with negativity. "I'm sorry this is all so sudden," Coulson spoke as they rounded the street corner. "I know you must have a lot of questions—they'll all be answered once we get in the air."</p><p>"'The air'?" she repeated the words, raising a skeptical brow.</p><p>"It's the fastest way of transport. It's perfectly safe."</p><p>"You're a government employee—nothing about you is <em>safe</em>."</p><p>It was then they reached Cassandra's building, and she didn't hesitate to heft her bike and take to the stairs, leaving Coulson to follow her in his own time. She carried the bike up to her floor and set it down, rolling it to the door as she dug a hand into her purse. Shaky fingers retrieved the keys and fumbled them into the lock before entering the apartment. Coulson stayed a few steps behind to allow her some space, remaining just inside the apartment so as not to violate privacy.</p><p>He wasn't there to search her things—only to escort. But, still, Cassandra kept an eye on him as she hurried into her bedroom at the end of the hall. She hadn't quite unpacked her duffel since visiting Clint. It sat slumped on the floor at the foot of her bed, half beneath the bed skirt, with folded clothes still inside from months prior. So, she plucked it from the floor and added a few things—just enough shirts and bottoms to cover the leather beneath it all.</p><p>Then some toiletries, a phone charger, and extra shoes to fill the empty spaces. There was no telling what she would be up to now, what she would be getting herself into with this. She packed for the obvious but also the unexpected just in case. Once it was zipped up, she pulled the strap over her head, the bag against her hip, and walked quickly to the front of the apartment. "All set?" Coulson asked, at the door.</p><p>She nodded. "Yeah."</p><p>"Follow me, please."</p><p>He turned and exited the apartment, and Cassandra followed him to the stairs. A lump of nerves bundled in her throat as they ascended the steps toward the roof. It was a strong sense of deja vu, bringing her mind back to images, memories of her trip to Clint's. They took the same stairs, gone to the same roof. And, just as before, there was a quinjet. It was cloaked, revealed as the bay door lowered to allow them access upon reaching the roof.</p><p>Cassandra's fingers tightened around the strap of her duffel bag where it crossed her chest, but her feet continued to move. If this was all true and something had happened to Clint—what was a little air travel in comparison? If he was in trouble, she would simply have to deal with it. There wasn't much getting around it. Still, the two thoughts of <em>he needs you</em> and <em>but I'm terrified</em> tossed around inside her head with vigor, building pressure between her eyes.</p><p>Coulson lead the way up the ramp and into the quinjet. It was a lot like the one Clint had used, though a bit smaller. And, this time, there were two pilots and a third passenger, a man sitting in the seats along the left wall. He stood as the pair entered from the roof, looking on with a simultaneously curious and confused expression. Cassandra's feet froze as her eyes finally found him. <em>Steve Rogers</em>. He looked just as the news had pictured him. Just as he was all those years ago.</p><p>"Ma'am," he nodded in greeting.</p><p>"What the fuck is this?" she questioned, turning to look at Coulson, who had taken a seat along the opposite wall near the cockpit. "Why am I on a plane with <em>Captain America</em>?"</p><p>"Please, have a seat, and I'll explain what I can," Coulson gestured to the empty seats beside him.</p><p>Begrudgingly, Cassandra pulled her duffel over her head and sat it at her feet, lowering herself into a seat near the center of the right wall. Steve returned to his seat across the small expanse of the craft as the ramp began lifting to close. "The trouble your brother's mixed up in requires a little extra man-power," Coulson told her. "We asked Captain Rogers to help out. I'd suggest putting on your seat belt."</p><p>Her hands worked to pull the straps of her seat over her shoulders, fumbling with the clip in the center of her chest, but she barely took her eyes off Coulson. "Why can't you tell me what the hell is going on?" she asked, frustration coating her words as she wrapped her arms around her frame.</p><p>"I'm sorry I can't give you more information—I'm not at liberty to disclose any of the details yet," Coulson apologized.</p><p>He signaled to the pilots that all passengers were ready a moment before the craft lifted, and Cassandra's hands shot to her buckle, fingers wrapping tightly around the straps. It was a knee-jerk reaction—but it was enough for Steve to notice. He eyed her curiously, in thought. Coulson hadn't told him just who they were picking up, only that they needed to round up one more person before heading to base. It wasn't too out of the ordinary or unreasonable to do.</p><p>Though, Cassandra looked like an average civilian. The way she spoke, appeared clueless, didn't help convince him otherwise. "Afraid of flying?" he inquired, speaking up a little to be heard across the space. Small talk wasn't his greatest skill, but he knew it helped break social ice—and, by the look of it, there was a lot to break.</p><p>Cassandra's eyes glanced in his direction, but ultimately remained on the floor. "I've had some bad experiences."</p><p>"Well, if it makes you feel any better, it's the safest way to travel."</p><p>"It doesn't," she looked up, offering a closed-mouth smile—a small indent of cheeks. "But, thanks."</p><p>"I'm Steve Rogers," he introduced himself. These days, Steve wasn't sure who knew his name and who didn't. So, just in case, he always introduced himself anyway. It felt almost arrogant not to. As though he expected people around him to know who he was simply because he existed. It felt wrong.</p><p>Cassandra exhaled heavily through her nostrils in an attempt to quell the nausea threatening the integrity of her stomach. "Cassandra Barton. Cass is fine."</p><p>Even when it was safe to unbuckle, Cassandra remained in her seat, hands wringing in her lap. Anxiety and stress brought heat to her hands, pooling beneath the skin of her palms. There was so much to think about, so much to worry over, all of it colliding in her gut as the jet neared its destination. But as the craft landed atop the runway of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s helicarrier, it all started to reverse.</p><p>It felt as though she were covered in a warm blanket of calm. The blood in her veins began to cool, stilling the tremble of her hands, and her fingers peeled away from each other. Though, it didn't feel entirely unnatural. The wave of peace and, therefore, confidence that crashed against her spine was somehow from within. She unbuckled and stood from her seat before pulling her duffel bag's strap back over her head.</p><p>Something felt just a little wrong. A little off. Then, she felt it—a pulsating numbness at the base of her skull. <em>Charles</em>. The sensation was unmistakable. The professor had probed her mind a handful of times she was aware of, many more before she learned how to sense it, and only some were genuinely helpful. Objectively, it was understandable he would join her now. She was <em>terrified</em>.</p><p>The possibilities of Clint being hurt and the government secretly waiting for the right moment to detain her were endless. On top of that, she'd just been in a plane. So, she wasn't as apprehensive as expected—instead, she let him watch, let him listen as she followed Coulson down the ramp of the quinjet. Steve was right beside her, the duffel bag on her hip creating a barrier.</p><p>Flight crew ran around seemingly at random, performing their duties to ready the helicarrier for ascension. The deck looked fairly busy. "Agent Romanoff," Coulson spoke, pulling Cassandra's—and now Charles'—eyes away from the chaotic hustle. A woman with starkly red hair strode up to the three of them, and Cassandra's shoulders tensed. Coulson continued, introducing the others, "Captain Rogers, Cassandra Barton."</p><p>Steve tipped his head. "Ma'am."</p><p>"Hi," Romanoff returned the nod, before looking back at Coulson. "They need you on the bridge. They're starting the face-trace."</p><p>Coulson promptly excused himself, walking quickly across the runway, and Cassandra's eyes followed him—but only for a second. Then, she was looking at Agent Romanoff with knitted brows, scrutinizing the neutral expression on the woman's face. "Who are you trying to find, Agent?" Cassandra probed for information.</p><p>"A very high-profile target. It's nice to finally meet you. Clint's talked about you a lot," Romanoff replied. She tipped her head to the left, silently gesturing as she began walking, and Cassandra found herself following without a second thought. Though, she wasn't sure just <em>who </em>was following.</p><p>Cassandra tightened her fingers around the bag strap, blood pumping a little faster at the mention of her missing brother. "You work with my brother?" she asked the redhead. "What's happened to him?"</p><p>"Well, in simple terms, he's being mind-controlled. Forced to do some bad things," the agent explained the predicament, however vaguely.</p><p>"Doctor Banner," Steve suddenly spoke, stepping around the two women. He approached a dark-haired man in semi-formal attire. Banner, as he'd addressed him, was visibly nervous. Eyes darting from plane, to passing soldier, to flight deck crew—turning on his heels quickly to eye each thing skeptically. Although, his reaction to it all was rather understandable, given his past interactions with the government.</p><p>And, to Cassandra, it was more than relatable. The sight of all of it up close was overwhelming. Banner turned quickly as he heard his name called, mouth curving up at the edges in a casual, closed-mouth smile. "Yeah, hi," he held out his hand and Steve didn't hesitate to shake it. "They told me you'd be coming."</p><p>"Wish I could say the same," Cassandra mumbled the words beneath her breath, barely audible above the wind.</p><p>"Word is you can find the cube," the Captain commented.</p><p>Banner clasped his hands before him as he took a quick, anxious look around. "Is that the only word on me?"</p><p>"Only word I care about," Steve replied. Then, he turned to bring Cassandra into view. "This is Cassandra. In all honesty, I'm not sure why she's here."</p><p>Cassandra stepped forward, shuffling up beside Steve in order to follow suit, holding out her hand. Banner shook it as his eyes scrutinized her, just as she had done to Agent Romanoff moments ago. "Cass is fine. I don't know why I'm here anymore either," she confessed, with a gentle shrug of her shoulders.</p><p>"Oh...that's unsettling, isn't it?" his voice was sarcastic, though laden with anxieties. "I'm Dr. Bruce Banner—Bruce, is fine."</p><p>The name sounded familiar, but not to her. Images flashed before her eyes—glimpses of what felt so much like a memory—of trees, a field of grass, and a blue sky. Then came the horror of it all, the fear and the anger—<em>so much anger</em>. Green colored almost everything from the trees to the grass. She saw a flash of something else, a shade of green all its own. A mass of muscle on two legs, covered in sweat and grime, filled with pain and rage.</p><p>Cassandra blinked hard as she retracted her hand, allowing it to hang freely at her side—feigning a casual facade of calm despite the return of a light tremble. "You're gonna want to step inside in a minute," Agent Romanoff said, gaining the attention of the present three. "It's going to get a little hard to breathe."</p><p>It was then that the sudden pace change of the flight deck crew was noticeable. Everyone hustled a little faster, a voice over the PA ordering them to secure the deck. Cassandra's heart lurched into her throat, fingers clenching down hard on the strap across her chest, as her eyes darted across the expanse of the deck. "Is this a submarine?" Steve questioned, as he began taking absentminded steps toward the edge several feet away.</p><p><em>No, it's an aircraft</em>.</p><p>The thought bounced into her mind like a rubber ball, flitting through too quick to catch—but she could feel it in her chest. It was true. Though, the men continued to hypothesize, Banner adding to it with a huffed chuckle. "Really? They want <em>me </em>in a submerged, pressurized, metal container?" They walked to the edge and peered over as the concrete deck began to rumble violently.</p><p>Strong wind gusts and ocean sloshing joined the loud sound of deck commotion and engines as the turbines broke the surface of the water, rising to meet the sides of the craft and lock into place. They whirred to life, creating a hellish whirlwind and air. "No, no—this is much worse," Banner corrected himself, shouting over the volume.</p><p>"If you'll all follow me..." Romanoff also shouted to be heard, but mostly to get the attention of the men at the edge—and she succeeded. Though, she wouldn't have to tell Cassandra twice. The redheaded agent lead the three outsiders inside, out of the harsh wind and noise, and it was somewhat of a relief. However, the fear was quickly replenished by the sight of armed guards along every hallway. They were stationed at entrances, exits, almost every doorway, and they passed by frequently.</p><p>It was worrisome, despite its understandability. Then, finally, they arrived at the bridge. Walking through the doors behind Agent Romanoff revealed a small hive of other agents, all sitting in front of screens on varying levels of flooring, stretching almost all the way to the floor-to-ceiling glass wall at the end of the room. The display was impressive—and vaguely concerning.</p><p>There was a table to the left, a few feet behind the Director's command center. Cassandra lowered herself into one of the chairs without hesitation as Steve went to the right, eyes scanning the room with a small gleam of wonder, and Banner rounded the left end of the table in his attempt to look around. Though, he stopped promptly at the sight of two agents blocking the way up a short set of steps, and turned away on his heels, rubbing anxiously at the back of his neck.</p><p>Cassandra set her duffel down at her feet and leaned into the table, folding her right arm as her left bent up, fingers reaching to touch her temple. Her shoulders arched, folding inward to further hide herself, as she took a deep breath. <em>Charles?</em> she thought, her free hand curling into a fist atop the table. <em>What's going on?</em></p><p>
  <em>Do not be alarmed—they have no intention of harming you. Your brother is in fact in great danger. I'm unable to find his exact location, but he is working with someone you know-</em>
</p><p>"Are you alright?"</p><p>Charles' voice faded quickly from her mind as a foreign one entered her ears, causing her to glance up quickly. Mild irritation filled her chest. Though, when her eyes settled on a man with an eye patch and a dark trench coat hanging from his shoulders, something within her relaxed. "I'd be better if someone told me what the hell was going on," she answered him honestly, readjusting in her seat to better see him.</p><p>"Well, allow me to enlighten you. My name is Director Nick Fury. My apologies for all the secrecy," he replied, hands clasped behind his back at the wrists. "We didn't want to alarm you before it was necessary. However, the time has come—Agent Barton has been, in a sense, kidnapped. He's not acting under his own control. We're in the process of searching for him as we speak."</p><p>Cassandra sat back, folding her arms across her chest. "How did <em>that </em>happen?"</p><p>"He was helping safeguard something known as the Tesseract. It's power allowed someone not from our world to open a door to our facility, where he encountered the individual," the Director stepped forward then, reaching into a pocket inside his coat. His hand pulled out a set of photographs. Sliding them onto the tabletop near Cassandra, Fury added, "I'm fairly certain you've already met."</p><p>Her eyes drifted down cautiously, an eyebrow instinctively quirking in confusion upon hearing his statement. Then, her muscles tensed, stomach contents sloshing, and the skin of her face turned a ghostly shade of white. Careful, she reached out a trembling hand and pulled the photos closer. Each was a screenshot from surveillance footage, the dates and timestamps in the corner, along with the street addresses. And each one featured her face, accompanied by a tall and dark-haired man, the pair seen outside the doors of a familiar flower shop. <em>Loki</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. a disconnect</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Every eye within earshot of the conversation was on her, heat boring into her skin from every angle, causing it to crawl beneath the weight. Although, above everything, she was <em>confused</em>. "I'm sorry?" Cassandra tilted her head, looking up at the Director with utter bewilderment. "Is this supposed to be some kind of sick joke?"</p>
<p>"Eighty people dead is nothin' to joke about, Miss Barton. Your pal Loki here stepped through a portal powered by the Tesseract. He stole it, taking your brother with him, and the facility imploded," Fury replied. His voice was calm, but stern—enough to let her know he was serious without coming across as accusatory. Though, it all sounded the same to Cassandra.</p>
<p>"No, that's—that's not like him <em>at all</em>."</p>
<p>Fury shrugged lightheartedly. "And here we are."</p>
<p>"So, what, you brought me in here to help you find him? Is that it?" Her arms pulled tight across her chest, crossing defensively as the irritation returned, threatening to turn into anger. "This was never about my brother, getting him home safely—no, this is about <em>you </em>not being able to do your job."</p>
<p>"This <em>is </em>my job. You're an associate, but we have no reason to believe you're a threat unless you give us one. We <em>need </em>to know what you know, before more people lose their lives," Fury explained.</p>
<p>
  <em>Listen to him, Cassandra. He's telling you the truth.</em>
</p>
<p>Charles' voice echoed through her mind and she blinked hard reflexively. <em>Of course he would say that</em>, she thought. But Charles was, in fact, right. Many thoughts blazed their way through her head, bouncing around obnoxiously. Why would Loki do something so horrendous? She never thought him capable of such a thing. It didn't make sense—how she left him and how he'd been found.</p>
<p>The dots didn't connect, the details didn't align. Something wasn't right. It couldn't be, could it? Could she have truly misjudged him so thoroughly? "I don't know anything about what's going on, so I can't help you," she shook her head, moving her eyes to the glass of the tabletop.</p>
<p>"I don't know—you two look pretty acquainted in those photos," Fury pressed it, eyeing her carefully. "You sure he didn't mention anything?"</p>
<p>"She said she doesn't know anything," Steve entered the discussion, stepping up to the table across from her. It was a small gesture, an almost timid extension of an olive branch.</p>
<p>Fury leaned back on his heels, turning his skeptical gaze to the Captain. "And you believe her?"</p>
<p>Cassandra scoffed as she resisted the urge to move, to get up, to <em>leave</em>. Steve looked at Cassandra, and he sympathized—she looked genuinely shaken by the news, all of it on top of her brother gone missing, doing who knows what. From what he'd seen of her reactions thus far, he was confident in the nod he gave, moving his eyes back to Fury. "I don't need a fucking <em>sponsor</em>," the words slipped through Cassandra's clenched teeth, looking up at the Director with narrowed eyes. "The person <em>I </em>know wouldn't do anything like this—so I can't help you. I <em>won't </em>say it again."</p>
<p>"Alright, then. Who's the person <em>you </em>know?" Fury humored her, choosing to ignore her attitude for the sake of insight.</p>
<p>"Loki is <em>good</em>. He's kind, and smart, and funny. He's insanely polite. He's <em>gentle</em>. This?" Cassandra reached out, slamming a finger into one of the photos on the table to pull it away from the rest. "We went <em>book shopping</em>. It sounds menacing, I know, but he likes astronomy. I don't know who the fuck is wrecking your shit, but it's no one I know."</p>
<p>Nick Fury was not one to take someone's words at face value. There was always something beneath them, he knew. He'd learned that lesson the hard way over many years. Despite her genuine appearance and his lack of any damning evidence against her, he couldn't help but remain cautious, keeping himself from letting it go quite so quickly. He heard her words and felt the emotion stored within them—but he also knew what he'd seen with his own eye.</p>
<p>There was clearly a disconnect. Maybe Loki had hidden his plans from her all along? Maybe he was simply using her for resources while he schemed? It was hard to find an answer to any question he could ask himself about the discrepancy. Cassandra slid the other photos together and pushed them toward Fury, before sitting back in her seat, arms folded once again. "Where are you with locating the Tesseract?" Banner spoke up, aiming to change the subject for everyone's sake.</p>
<p>Fury turned to glance over the railing, giving Agent Coulson a cue to speak from where he stood just below, supervising the trace. "We're sweeping every wirelessly accessible camera on the planet," Coulson explained, crossing his arms. "If it's connected to a satellite, it's eyes and ears for us."</p>
<p>"That's still not gonna find them in time," Romanoff said, squatting to look at one of the screens.</p>
<p>"You have to narrow your field. How many spectrometers do you have access to?" Banner asked Fury.</p>
<p>Fury made a shrugging gesture. "How many are there?"</p>
<p>"Call every lab you know, tell them to put the spectrometers on the roof and calibrate them for gamma rays," Banner spoke as he took off his suit jacket, folding it in half and draping it over his arm. "I'll rough out a tracking algorithm, basic cluster recognition. At least we could rule out a few places. Do you have somewhere for me to work?"</p>
<p>"Agent Romanoff, could you show Dr. Banner to his laboratory, please?"</p>
<p>Romanoff didn't hesitate to nod and make her way toward Banner, passing him as he began to follow toward an exit. "You're gonna love it, doc. We got all the toys."</p>
<p>Cassandra watched them leave absentmindedly, her train of thought drifting in too many other directions to truly give it any attention. Many things the Director had said did not make sense and she was hung up on each one. All she could trust for certain was the condition of her brother. Though, even that had its own set of questions attached.</p>
<p>Then, Charles' voice vibrated through her skull. <em>The Director has ulterior motives. You're right to question him, Cassandra. But I must warn you—there is no room for error here. Choose your moves wisely.</em></p>
<p><em>Can you ever give me something useful, instead of a vague commentary that barely answers anything? </em>If Cassandra could roll her eyes in the form of thought, she would've, in response to Charles.</p>
<p>It was of some comfort to have him there for the sake of insight. Though, that didn't stop the annoyance from bubbling within her gut upon hearing his voice. Sighing, she stood from her chair and took steps away from the table, toward the railing at the edge of the level. The agents sitting at their screens worked quickly, faces pensive, unbothered by anything happening around them. They looked almost robotic in their determination. Fury turned slightly in his position as his gaze followed Cassandra in an almost straight line, mild curiosity tugging an eyebrow upward.</p>
<p>"You know what I am, who I associate with—yet you sent only one agent to bring me here. You <em>want </em>something. What is it?" she questioned him calmly with a brief glance, but there was nothing docile about her demeanor. She was hunting. A lioness stalking her prey, noting its patterns and habits, adapting to best approach without alarming the target.</p>
<p>Fury could see it, the defensive, protective gleam to her eye. Though, he wanted to test her. To withhold just enough information to make her mad—and, maybe, see just whose side she was on. "Very perceptive," he dryly quipped, expression unchanging. "I want the Tesseract."</p>
<p>Cassandra raised a brow. "And you think he'll just give it to you?"</p>
<p>"No. But he might give it to <em>you</em>."</p>
<p>That was when she <em>laughed</em>. Fury continued to stare at her with serious, stern features, and the sound of the laughter had Steve looking now, too—but she couldn't help herself. It was simply so ridiculous, the thought that she would cooperate and, in a way, work for a government agency. If lives were truly at stake and it was the only thing that could be done to save them, of course she would. But there was something even someone as smart as Nick Fury neglected to consider.</p>
<p>"If Loki really is some Asgardian warlord come to kill us all, then clearly he was lying the whole time he was with me. The fact that <em>you </em>think he'd listen to me, given your own opinion on the subject, is genuinely laughable," Cassandra explained the outburst as she crossed her arms. "I'm not helping <em>you </em>do shit."</p>
<p>"I suppose we'll see about that," the Director said, forcing Cassandra to hold back a strong roll of her eyes. He appeared to believe something he was doing somehow kept her there. When, in all actuality, she could leave and return whenever she pleased. It was a kind of entitlement, an arrogance—no, <em>overconfidence</em>—that stank like smelling salts. A reminder that no matter how friendly he portrayed himself, he would always be government. His position within S.H.I.E.L.D. came before all else.</p>
<p>It was his largest personality indicator. <em>One never reaches the top without shedding parts of themselves thought to be unnecessary</em>, as Charles would say. <em>And, often times, the parts we shed are the ones we truly need</em>. Cassandra narrowed her eyes at Fury. "Can someone show me the bathroom? Or, do I need written permission to leave the bridge?"</p>
<p>With an uninterested, tired expression, Fury looked to a nearby agent and tilted his head. The agent rushed, walking quickly past Cassandra with a small, "Right this way." Cassandra refrained from scowling—the natural position her face was threatening to take—as she picked up her duffel bag from the floor and began following the agent out. In truth, she didn't need to use the facilities for obvious reasons. No, she needed a quiet place. A spot where she could breathe and push through the fog to find some clarity. And, <em>answers</em>.</p>
<p>There was a bathroom not too far from the bridge. The agent that lead her there let her be, and Cassandra locked herself inside. She lowered her duffel to the floor before the sink, at her feet, and leaned into the small counter space on her palms. "Tell me <em>everything</em>," she spoke quietly, as not to alert anyone in the hall, as she looked into the mirror. In the small space of the rectangular glass appeared a figure, sharpening slowly to bring it into focus—but she knew it was Charles long before his face took shape.</p>
<p>"<em>The Director is right to fight to reclaim the Tesseract—its power is beyond measure. Although, I'm not certain if his hands are the best place for it to stay permanently. He intends to use it to make weapons. And, in fact, he already has</em>," Charles told her, features shaded grimly. "<em>The purpose is for otherworldly threats, such as Loki. However, we know very well how quickly that will change. What I can tell you about Loki, currently, is fairly limited. There's something blocking me from connecting with him.</em>"</p>
<p>Cassandra sighed, briefly allowing her eyes to close. "That's not surprising."</p>
<p>"<em>I must confess, I've read his mind before—years ago. I wanted to make sure he wasn't a threat, and he wasn't, so I've stayed out since. This blockage is new. It feels alive, as though it can sense me attempting to get in and is adjusting to keep me out.</em>"</p>
<p>"<em>Okay</em>...Fury said Clint was being mind-controlled. Is he blocking you out, too?" she questioned, gritting her teeth. It was all she could do to swallow the rising anger, the offense at his admitted intrusion on Loki's behalf. To stay <em>focused</em>.</p>
<p>Charles paused in the mirror, considering. "<em>No. Although, his mind feels rather different. Almost like it isn't his own. It's probably an off-chute of whatever consciousness is behind the wheel. But it is completely reversible.</em>"</p>
<p>"Can you tell me, with one hundred percent certainty, that Loki has done what Fury said he did?"</p>
<p>"<em>I'm afraid so. Fury was telling the truth about that—he was there, after all, when Loki took the Tesseract. And your brother</em>," Charles answered. Then, another pause. Cassandra stood upright, allowing her hands to fall at her sides, as her eyes narrowed in question. "<em>It appears your brother is on the move. Though, I'm not entirely sure where. It looks like a kind of museum, perhaps? No, something else</em>."</p>
<p>"Is he with Loki?" Cassandra asked, quick with a bubble of worry rising within her throat. Whether she was concerned more for Clint or for Loki was uncertain at this point. It all melted together in a swirling stormfront of anxiety.</p>
<p>Charles was searching for the answers to her questions, but his vision was blurred extensively. Every morsel he could retrieve was muddled and mangled, making it very difficult to decode certain images, and almost impossible to determine a location. <em>Almost</em>. "<em>No. My apologies—it's very difficult to make much sense of this</em>," he apologized. "<em>Your brother has gone to a research facility somewhere in Germany. Loki appears to be elsewhere, although still in the same country</em>."</p>
<p>Cassandra had a hunch. She couldn't tell just how much of it was Charles and how much her own, but it didn't really matter. With an exhale, she nodded—mostly to herself. "Thanks. You can go now. I've got this."</p>
<p>"<em>I'm not so sure that's a good idea</em>-"</p>
<p>"Go, Charles. That's enough," she insisted, eyes meeting the hazy visage in the mirror. Though Charles disagreed, he accepted her request for independence. Cassandra knew that if the case was dire enough, Charles would always pop back in—and that was the bittersweet part. If she was in danger, he was there. If she needed something as simple as a hug, he was absent.</p>
<p>It gave her the illusion of attachment. Maybe he was worried because he truly cared? <em>If he cared about you, you wouldn't be here</em>, she reminded herself. Perhaps, she'd thought many nights, her life would have played out much differently had she been treated properly? If she'd felt loved, wanted, needed—but she never did. Of course, she'd always felt cared for by her immediate friend circle. And Logan, when he was around, always made an effort. Not Charles.</p>
<p>Not Scott. Not Storm. Not anyone she desired closeness from. It was hard not to dwell on it as the sudden silence filled her mind, the mirage in the mirror no longer lingering. Though, it did present an interesting thought. She had lived her life feeling completely alone, and there she stood—surely, no matter how difficult this situation became, she could handle it alone, as well.</p>
<p>It was then the small bathroom echoed a swift rapping of knuckles, bone meeting the door from the outside, and she startled with a hard blink. "Miss Barton? Everything okay in there?" In came the calm voice of Agent Coulson. Although he was muffled through the door, he sounded genuine. Cassandra exhaled heavily and opened the door. She'd hoped for a few more minutes alone. Though, it wasn't surprising Fury would send someone to 'check in'.</p>
<p>The thought left a bitter taste on her tongue, narrowing her eyes as they settled on Coulson. "Which leg?"</p>
<p>"I'm sorry?" he was confused, understandably so.</p>
<p>"Where do you want the ankle monitor?" she rephrased her dryly sarcastic question.</p>
<p>Coulson straightened his shoulders and, with a closed-mouthed smile, replied, "We don't do that here." He shook his head with confidence and Cassandra bit her tongue. However, questions nagged at her. Questions he might actually be allowed to answer now.</p>
<p>"Why were you stalking me?"</p>
<p>It was blunt—the words hitting him square between the eyes with irritation and disdain—and the phrasing caught him a bit off guard. But it was to be expected. Of course she would want to know—who wouldn't, in her position? So, he answered calmly, candidly. "I was assigned to you by Director Fury," he told her. "Not to stalk—just to check in every once in a while."</p>
<p>Cassandra raised a brow expectantly. "And why did he assign you?"</p>
<p>"He originally considered you for the Avengers Initiative, but he wasn't sure if you were as much of a friendly as we would need you to be. My job was to observe and report back. Your mental state was the primary focus."</p>
<p>"What the fuck is the <em>Avengers Initiative</em>?" she questioned him, loosely folding her arms. Adjusting her position, she leaned a hip into the doorway, forcing her shoulders to relax.</p>
<p>He gave a brief shake of his head. "I'll have to leave that one to Fury."</p>
<p>Cassandra reached up a hand, rubbing her left temple gingerly as her eyes fell to the floor. The pressure had not stopped building between her eyes, spreading out now along the arches of her brows, finding the sensitive temples on either side. It poked and prodded at them, demanding her attention. However, there was no attention she could give. Too much of it was needed to focus on a headache—despite where she knew it would lead.</p>
<p>"Are you even married?" she asked yet another question, this time through a grumble.</p>
<p>"Afraid not."</p>
<p>She looked up, then, confused. "Then what did you do with all those flowers?"</p>
<p>"Well, there <em>is </em>someone I'm-"</p>
<p>A female agent appeared, walking quickly into the small side hall from around the corner. She appeared just as focused and determined as those working at the screens, but clearly rushed, something important forcing its way up her throat before she could stop it. "Agent Coulson, the Director needs you on the bridge," she said, interrupting abruptly. "They've located a match."</p>
<p>He gave a curt nod and she was dismissed, leaving as quickly as she'd come. And, now, Coulson was in a rush, as well. Cassandra instinctively pushed off the doorway, arms falling to her sides, as Agent Coulson turned to her once more. "I think you'll want to be there for this part," he told her, with a tip of his head in a gesture. It was to urge her to follow as he began walking. Cassandra was quick to retrieve her bag from the floor and follow after him, walking a bit faster to keep up.</p>
<p>When they returned to the bridge, Steve was leaving the room through the other side, guided by an agent. Director Fury was conversing with another agent down below, over the railing, at one of the computer screens. The atmosphere of the room had drastically changed. It <em>was </em>determined but calm. Now, electric with the excitement of the find, like a bone to an anxious dog. "Director," Coulson announced his presence as they approached, gaining Fury's attention. "We found him?"</p>
<p>"Looks like it. They're suiting up."</p>
<p>Fury stood upright, turning to see them both. Cassandra stayed back a few steps, opting for space, fingers curling into her palms at her sides. "I can help with that," she spoke up, forcing the words past the anxiety caught in her throat.</p>
<p>"You'll be staying here," Fury told her. It wasn't surprising that she would volunteer for this part. Not surprising at all. But, although she was right, sending her to bring in Loki would only foil his plans. "We're not going to reveal our hand just yet."</p>
<p>Frustration blossomed from the helplessness that had grown within her chest. She tightened her fists, breathing in deeply, and turned on her heels. It seemed there was nothing she was allowed to know, nothing she was allowed to <em>do</em>—and it was utterly infuriating. Cassandra dropped into a chair at the table and dropped her bag at her feet, right back where she was not two hours before. Given her insight, she knew they would not be finding Clint, and there was no reason to worry about Loki.</p>
<p>If anything, she should be worried for whomever they'd sent to bring him in. Though, that was just another thing on a long list of things Fury did not know. With a heavy sigh, she spoke up to be heard, "I want to see the surveillance footage from when Loki took the Tesseract."</p>
<p>Fury turned to see her over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised—as though he expected her to correct herself. "I'm sorry?"</p>
<p>"Well, if I ask, the answer is always <em>no</em>," she replied, stubbornly. "I want to see it."</p>
<p>"Alright then. Knock yourself out."</p>
<p>Again he signaled to an agent, and they rushed toward the table, a tablet in hand. The agent placed it on the table and Cassandra nodded in thanks before they disappeared, hurrying back down the steps toward the computers. Almost immediately her hands were on the device, eagerly opening up the footage, and Fury eyed her a moment longer. At the bottom of it all, it was fairly easy to understand why she would distrust him—dislike him, even.</p>
<p>She had just as much reason to be wary of him as he did to be wary of her. What was hard to understand, was her affiliation with Loki. Could she truly be involved in this sinister plot? Or, was she genuinely a heartbroken woman, caught up in the lies of a real-life Disney villain? Cassandra opened the footage and began to play it, scrutinizing every detail as she found herself hunching forward, hovering over the tablet.</p>
<p>It was a wide shot, from up above it all, but she could see it clearly enough. The Tesseract shot a beam of blue at a platform a few yards away, the energy flourishing up the walls of the shaft above in an explosion of flame-like light. As it faded out, a shadow was left behind on the platform—a human figure. <em>Loki</em>, she knew. Agents approached cautiously as he slowly stood. Her eyes caught on a golden rod in his hand. It hooked at the end, a glowing light of blue inside the curl. She'd never seen it before—and, from what she could recall, she'd never heard of it, either.</p>
<p>The next thing she noticed was his face. Despite the unnaturally sinister way his lips contorted into a smile, he looked borderline <em>sickly</em>. Visibly pale, discolored skin under his eyes, sweat beading his forehead. As he stood to his full height, his features relaxed, taking in his surroundings, and the unwell appearance of his face was more visible. She paused the screen, rewound and played it again, only to repeat the process. It didn't make sense. Cassandra had asked, once, how he'd so effortlessly come and gone from Asgard.</p>
<p>From what she understood, opening a portal such as this would not cause such physical side effects. Though, what did she truly know about interdimensional travel? All she had was the word of someone she could no longer trust. Still, the image was added to her mental list of things that didn't make sense, things that didn't quite add up like they should. Then, she hit play—and she wished she hadn't.</p>
<p>Fury stood next to Clint near the Tesseract, looking on at the sudden intruder with both curiosity and concern, and Fury requested Loki put down his weapon. However, Loki simply looked down at the scepter—almost as if he'd only just remembered he'd held it. Then, he lunged it forward, a bolt of blue shooting out at the agents. Loki sprung from the platform and plunged the tip of the scepter into an agent's chest, before righting himself and throwing a pair of daggers at the other two agents.</p>
<p>It was difficult to watch. But she clenched her teeth and forced herself to <em>look</em>. Clint and agents behind him fired their guns at Loki. The bullets were deflected by a quick shield of thin, translucent blue. He fired back, then, sending a bolt of blue toward Clint. Every muscle in Cassandra's body instinctively stiffened, refusing to relax even after Clint had rolled away, missing the bolt. All was still for a brief moment as every agent had been taken out. Clint pushed himself up from the concrete flooring as Loki quickly approached him.</p>
<p>Clint lifted his arm, finger on the trigger of his hand gun, but Loki grabbed his wrist and twisted it aside. Then, he touched the tip of the scepter to Clint's chest. Veins in Clint's neck visibly rushed with a shimmering blue, the color crawling quickly up through his cheek, as a darkness flushed through his eyes. That was when he'd been mind-controlled, Cassandra knew. A pang of anger hit her square in the chest. It overshadowed the ache she'd felt at the appearance of her former lover, squelching anything else left after it.</p>
<p>Taking Clint felt deliberate, with the way Loki was so quick to pounce. Why was Clint first? Why take him at all? After all, Nick Fury was only a few feet away. He could've had all of S.H.I.E.L.D. at his disposal and, instead, he chose <em>her </em>brother. She stopped the footage—there was no reason to continue, and she couldn't stand to watch any further—and released the tablet, sitting back in her chair as the anger pulsated, washing over her in white hot waves.</p>
<p>"I take it you didn't like what you saw," Director Fury's voice filtered in quietly through the mess of swirling emotions within her skull, just enough to turn her steely gaze in his direction for a brief glance. "Believe me now?"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. playing galaga</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cassandra paced, circling the table as the skin of her palms burned, fingers digging into her biceps as her folded arms crossed a little tighter. They'd announced that Steve and Agent Romanoff were returning with Loki in custody a while ago—too long—and it was taking every ounce of will within her to remain composed. To be patient, to wait. Odds were, Fury was not going to let her speak with Loki anyway. But she had half a mind to go above him regardless.</p><p>"They're here," Fury spoke then, interrupting her pace. "Tony Stark will be joining us. Try to keep things civil."</p><p>She felt as though she'd just been slapped in the face, standing at the opposite end of the table from the Director. <em>Tony Stark</em>? What would <em>he </em>even have to offer they didn't already possess? He added nothing valuable, as far as she was concerned. And there was going to be nothing civil about their introduction.</p><p>It didn't take long for Agent Romanoff to lead Steve through the doorway onto the bridge. Following them was a tall man with shoulder-length, blonde hair. He wore red beneath silver chest plating, intricate designs on the armor Cassandra recognized. "Thor," she blurted out the name, the epiphany and surprise of it all forcing past her lips without thought. She never thought she would actually see him in person—only hear about a perception of him in stories. The man turned at the sound of his name, caught off guard as he glanced twice.</p><p>"Yes. And you are?" he questioned her with eyes squinted, confused.</p><p>The others were all looking now—all just as caught off guard. Though, Fury was not as surprised. He'd wondered, however briefly, if she knew of Thor. It stood to reason that Loki would tell her things. She would ask questions and he would answer them. So, it made more sense that she recognized him than had she not. Cassandra shook her head at herself, taking a step forward. "Sorry. I'm-"</p><p>"<em>Cassandra</em>," Thor spoke her name as it finally touched his tongue, retrieved from memory a little too slowly. Cassandra's feet stopped suddenly, head tilting quizzically as the sound of it poured cold water over her head, but he continued with an explanation, "My mother spoke of you. I'd always wondered where Loki disappeared to—I never thought he might be meeting a lover. Especially not here."</p><p>She was unsure how to respond. Somewhere, deep within, she could feel the sentiment of it tugging at her. But the anger, the absolute fury was quick to cover it with a thunderous cloud. "I haven't seen him for months," her tone was firm, almost defensive—as though the thought of being connected with Loki might be <em>offensive</em>. And, now, it was starting to truly feel like just that.</p><p>"He's being taken to lock-up," Agent Romanoff's voice caught Cassandra's attention as she spoke directly to Fury, only a few feet away.</p><p>"Good," Fury nodded, before glancing over the people before him. "I'll give him the welcome speech. Make sure he feels at home."</p><p>He was stoically sarcastic, voice darkened just enough to notice, before he turned to leave. As he passed through the doorway out, Banner passed through coming in. Cassandra returned to her seat as Agent Romanoff filled him in on what was about to happen. The knowledge that Loki was on board, so close, was deafening. It was hard to focus on anything else. Her fingernails remained dug into her palms, bracing against the heat that refused to quiet, as she rested her folded arms atop the table.</p><p>Steve lowered himself into a chair opposite her. He glanced at her as he did so, mostly out of habit, and he couldn't help but notice the unrest. Her eyes were wild but unnaturally focused, determined—biding her time, he knew. Prior, she seemed saddened, scared, concerned. Now, anger was the only color in her face. Cassandra glanced up, briefly catching his eye, before her gaze fell to the large star on his chest. "Nice pajamas," she quipped dryly.</p><p>"You don't look so good," he told her, honestly, resting an arm atop the table. "Are you alright?"</p><p>She gave a small, dismissive shake of her head. "I'm fine."</p><p>The denial was almost laughable. It was clear to see that she was not, at all, <em>fine</em>. But the Captain refrained from pushing it, taking her word for it instead—though, he couldn't help but keep an eye on her, a cautious peripheral gaze. Agent Romanoff took a seat in the chair next to Cassandra's. "Can we get the feed from containment?" she asked, looking to the far right, at another female agent. The woman nodded and turned her eyes to the tablet in her hand. With a few buttons pressed, rectangular screens appeared in the glass of the table.</p><p>Cassandra promptly moved her arms back, out of the way of the screen before her. It played a live feed from cameras in another part of the helicarrier, where they'd just sealed Loki inside a large, cylindrical cage of glass. The Asgardian stood in the center as Fury touched the controls a few feet away. "<em>In case it's unclear, If you even try to escape, if you so much as scratch that glass…</em>" Fury's voice echoed through the microphones of the cameras. Then, a large hatch beneath the glass container hissed open, air loudly rushing into the space. "<em>It's thirty-thousand feet straight down in a steel trap. You get how that works?</em>"</p><p>Fury pressed another button and the hatch hissed closed. He gestured with his hands slowly toward Loki, then toward the controls as he quipped, "<em>Ant, boot</em>."</p><p>Loki chuckled, a sound that caused the muscles in Cassandra's gut to clench, a jolt of cold trailing down the length of her spine. "<em>It's an impressive cage</em>," he mused, stepping back from the glass. "<em>Not built, I think, for me</em>."</p><p>No, it clearly was not. The container was only glass and bolts. How did they expect someone as powerful as Loki to stay inside? Although, Fury didn't argue. "<em>Built for something a lot stronger than you</em>," the Director corrected, confidently.</p><p>"<em>Oh, I've heard</em>," Loki's head turned in a straight line, eyes finding the black orb on the other side of the cage easily. Cassandra swallowed, nails digging into the skin of her arms now, a dull throb of heat pulsating into her palms. "<em>A mindless beast. Makes play he's still a man. How desperate are you that you call on such lost creatures to defend you?</em>"</p><p>Fury stepped toward the cage. "<em>How desperate am I? You threaten my world with war. You steal a force you can't hope to control. You talk about peace, and you kill because it's fun. You have made me very desperate. You might not be glad that you did.</em>"</p><p>"<em>It burns you to have come so close. To have the Tesseract, to have power—unlimited power. And for what?</em>" Loki chuckled again, once more glancing up at the camera. "<em>A warm light for all mankind to share. And then to be reminded what real power is</em>."</p><p>"<em>Well, let me know if 'real power' wants a magazine or something</em>."</p><p>With that, Fury turned on his heels and took the stairs. As he exited the room, Loki turned toward the camera fully, staring up at it silently. It was difficult not to feel at least somewhat conflicted. After all, her heart still ached after his departure. Seeing him again under any circumstance felt like scratching off a much-needed scab. However, there was anger in her chest—a strong bout of rage she found it quite difficult to stifle.</p><p>Loki was not acting quite like himself. But was that really enough to warrant empathy, even after he targeted her brother? No. It was not. "He really grows on you, doesn't he?" Banner joked, as the screens faded quickly from the table.</p><p>"I'm sorry," Cassandra instinctively spoke up, looking up to where he stood at the other side of the table, leaning into the backing of a chair beside Steve.</p><p>But Bruce shook his head. "You don't have to apologize for him. I'll live."</p><p>Although Cassandra nodded a little, averting her eyes, it still felt so necessary. Maybe, she thought, if she hadn't allowed him to stay for so long, they wouldn't be here? Maybe, somehow, that was the cause? She'd clearly turned a blind eye to this new behavior, not hesitating to allow him a place in her home—when, all along it seemed, he'd been scheming and planning for this very day. Perhaps, in some way, she could have prevented it all?</p><p>And not just that. There was a pang of guilt in her gut, hitting her hard at the nature of Loki's comments. The emotions she'd felt when shaking Banner's hand—thanks to Charles—were potent, and they lingered in the back of her mind, a certain empathy looming with them. "Loki's gonna drag this out," Steve commented, with a sigh. "So, Thor, what's his play?"</p><p>Steve looked to the giant in the room. Thor stood a few feet from the table, arms crossed as he remained pensive, in deep thought. "He has an army called the Chitauri. They're not of Asgard, nor any world known," Thor turned toward the table as he spoke, allowing his arms to fall to his sides. "He means to lead them against your people. They will win him the Earth in return, I suspect, for the Tesseract."</p><p>"An army...from outer space," Steve mulled over the idea with heavy features. The notion was absolutely insane. It was just another thing on the list of modern-day changes that warped everything he knew about life.</p><p>"So, he's building another portal. That's what he needs Erik Selvig for," Bruce realized aloud.</p><p>Thor's brows knitted. "Selvig?"</p><p>"He's an astrophysicist," explained Banner.</p><p>"He's a friend," Thor replied.</p><p>"Loki has him under some kind of spell," Agent Romanoff spoke up, adding to the conversation. Then, sullenly, she said, "Along with one of ours."</p><p>Cassandra's shoulders tensed. She wondered, briefly, if Laura even knew what had happened. Had anyone told her? Was there anyone who knew she existed that could call her? Then, finally, should Cassandra call? The ache in her temple returned, and she tuned out of the present conversation as she leaned aside, lifting a hand to rub gingerly at the sore spot. With all the stress, anger, and fear, she was equal to a barrel of dynamite.</p><p>She could feel it in the tremble of her hands, the never ending pressure inside her skull. Inhaling through her nose, she tried to calm herself—though, to no avail. Nothing would ease her discomfort and volatility until she released what was pent up inside. So, instead, she gritted her teeth through it. "It's a stabilizing agent." A male voice spoke above the rest, from somewhere behind. As Cassandra righted herself enough to turn her head, the man came to stand in front of the table.</p><p>Tony Stark. The pulsation of her hands quickened, searing heat burning its way through her veins from the wrists. She didn't bother hiding the way her features naturally dropped, steeling, and drooping into an expression of enraged disgust. Her mouth was a firm scowl as he continued to speak. "It means the portal won't collapse in on itself, like it did at S.H.I.E.L.D.," Tony explained. Then, he gave a friendly pat to Thor's bare arm. "No hard feelings, Point Break. You've got a mean swing."</p><p>Tony turned to continue walking, moseying toward the control center Fury would normally be standing at, and he continued to speak even further—and Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing heavily. "Also, it means the portal can open as wide and stay open as long as Loki wants," he said. Standing in Fury's place, he thrusted a hand toward the agents at the computers. "<em>That</em> man is playing Galaga! He thought we wouldn't notice, but we did."</p><p>All present company stared quietly in a mixture of disbelief and annoyance. Cassandra groaned—rather loudly—and allowed her hand to fall to the glass of the table. "Will you shut the <em>fuck </em>up already?"</p><p>"The only major component Loki still needs is a power source of high-energy density," Tony turned on his heels to see the table, eyes landing swiftly on Cassandra's disgruntled features. "Something to kick-start the cube. I'm sorry—am I <em>boring </em>you, Miss…?"</p><p>Cassandra straightened in her chair, her eyes a heated glare. "<em>Barton</em>. You know, the girl who's brother is being mind-controlled? Take it seriously."</p><p>Steve pulled his concerned gaze away from Cassandra, instead looking to Tony, speaking in an effort to divert the hostility. "Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?" he questioned.</p><p>"He'd have to heat the cube to one-twenty-million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier," Banner answered, pacing slowly aside the table.</p><p>It was then Cassandra retreated from the conversation again, her mind wandering away as her eyes lingered on the tabletop. Loki needed a large amount of heat and power—something she was more than capable of providing. Could that have been Loki's plan all along? To use the cube with the help of Cassandra, as a kind of evil sidekick? The thought injected a shot of rage and hurt into her veins, the emotions melting together as they traveled toward her palms like a lava tube carrying magma toward the spout.</p><p>"Son of a <em>bitch</em>!" she exclaimed involuntarily, slamming the side of her fist against the table. The interruption alone was enough to gain the attention of everyone present. But, the glass beneath her fist cracked, a hairline breakage just visible enough to notice as translucent lavender burst through in small, quick streaks—and anxious concern joined the surprise on every face around her. Though, Cassandra didn't have the will to truly notice, to process what she'd just done.</p><p>She stood abruptly, stepping out from her place at the table. In her bout of deep thought, she hadn't noticed Director Fury's return to the room. He stood near the end of the table, hands placed on the backing of a chair, and he stared at her, too. However, that was not enough to stop the large rock of anger rolling down hill, threatening to crush them all in its path. "It's me- I'm the power source," she spoke quickly, furiously. "That cage can't hold him and he knows it—he's only here because he <em>wants </em>something."</p><p>"Why would he want <em>you</em>, exactly?" Tony questioned, an eyebrow arching in confusion as he pointed toward her in a brief gesture.</p><p>He did not receive an answer. Cassandra turned the second she'd finished speaking, and began walking. After three marched steps, she was enveloped in purple smoke, the energy built-up within her giving the cloud distinctive lines of electric color. They flashed quickly like lightning, the surge hanging in the air long after the smoke had dissipated. Bruce, Steve, and Thor were caught off guard by her disappearance. Agent Romanoff was only vindicated in the prior thoughts of curiosity she'd had, hearing what it was Clint's sister could do.</p><p>Tony slid his hands into the pockets of his pants with a disinterested sigh, tossing his eyes toward the ceiling as he turned back toward Fury's controls. Agent Coulson attempted to follow quickly toward the exit, but Fury held up a hand, stopping him before he could pass the table. "Let her go," Fury told him. "Something tells me this unstoppable force needs to meet <em>that </em>immovable object if we're going to get anywhere. Hill, get us the feed."</p><p>When Cassandra reappeared, she was marching toward the glass of Loki's cell. The Asgardian sat on the small bench along the back side of the container. He tilted his head, a devilish smirk illuminating his face upon her arrival. "At last," he mused, standing to his full height. "I was wondering when they'd send <em>you </em>in here."</p><p>Although, his words were not truly being listened to. As Cassandra reached the glass, she disappeared once more, before reappearing on the other side. Inside the cage, she met him in the center with her palms landing flat against his chest. The force was only enough to force him back a half step, if anything just for the sake of surprise. "Where the <em>fuck </em>is my brother, Loki?" she was shouting, glaring up at him with a rage in her eyes he'd never seen those gentle orbs possess.</p><p>Something inside him screamed. A small cry from the depths of his mind, a voice so similar to his own. His instinct was to express sorrow, with drooped features, empathy and remorse on his tongue—but even as guilt swirled in the pit of his gut, he gazed down at her with a <em>smirk</em>. "Ah, don't worry, my dear," he said, his voice sickeningly patronizing. "You'll see him soon enough."</p><p>Cassandra scoffed at his amused appearance. "You're right, I will. Because I'm going to blow your goddamn head off if you don't tell me where he is."</p><p>"Now, darling, do you really believe these people won't put <em>you </em>in a cage as well? If you make them think you're dangerous—who's to say they won't?"</p><p>"I've been in a cage before," she tilted her head, features steeling. Though, in thought, she called out a name. <em>Charles</em>. "You have five seconds."</p><p>Loki outstretched his arms, defiant against the strong constriction of his chest, his body moving despite the pleas of that small voice. "Go on, then. Give them a show."</p><p>As Cassandra lifted her hand, the base of her skull hummed, and she did not hesitate to continue. She could feel the large quantity of energy within him through the nerve endings in her palm—and she <em>pulled</em>. Heat burned within Loki's frame, flames fanning outward from his gut, and his features contorted as the heat turned to pain. It raced through his veins, over every inch of his body almost too quickly to comprehend. His knees buckled as she pulled harder, and he dropped to the flooring with a strangled groan.</p><p>It was a constriction of his lungs, a boiling of his blood. Cassandra took a step forward, fingers curling inward in an open fist, but she kept herself at bay. After all, actually killing him wouldn't accomplish much. The Tesseract would still be gone. Her brother would still be missing. No, this was not to kill him. Simply keep him still and lower his defenses.</p><p><em>I can see inside</em>, Charles' voice entered her mind, speaking over the anger. <em>You must keep him still—I need to look deeper</em>.</p><p><em>Show me what you see</em>.</p><p>She could feel Charles' apprehension in her gut, but she pushed it down, forcing it out as she mentally reiterated her demand. Then, in an instant, her mind was a murky bog of black. Wisps of shimmering blue danced across her vision. Disembodied voices echoed in her ears, fading in and out with the flashes of color. A sudden pain hit her square between the eyes. It was hot, sharp, carving its way deeper to her spine. From there, it spread rapidly. The pain doubled, fear wrenching her gut—no, <em>terror</em>—and she cried out.</p><p>Her feet shuffled back quickly, tripping over each other, and her hold on Loki was instinctively released. He fell forward, bracing against the floor on his palms as his chest heaved, and Cassandra continued backward. Before her back could touch the glass, she appeared on the other side, teleporting subconsciously. But the footing was wrong, and she fell backward onto the floor with a harsh thud. The pain had stopped—though, an ache lingered, only an echo of the strong feeling.</p><p>Cassandra's chest heaved as she labored to breathe, careful as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. "Did you think you were being <em>clever</em>?" Loki questioned, on his feet now. Slowly, he stalked toward the glass, now venomous eyes boring into her. "Tell me, how does it feel to fail so spectacularly, darling?"</p><p>A sudden <em>bang </em>startled Cassandra with a jolt, forcing her aching frame to twist, moving quickly to find the source. The door to the room was opened. As she turned her head to look, Steve had already bounded through the door, and he'd taken to the steps by the time Thor trailed in behind. Steve went straight to Cassandra, kneeling as he arrived. "Are you hurt?" he questioned, an arm snaking around her shoulders, another hand on her arm nearest him.</p><p>As he stood, he hefted her up to her feet with him. She shook her head despite its sudden, dizzying spin, and allowed him to help her—against her initial instinct to shake him off. Thor stood aside from them, glaring hotly at his brother through the glass. Loki remained silent, staring right back, smirking all the while. "Come on," Steve spoke quietly, aiming the words at Cassandra. "Let's get you out of here."</p><p>All she could bring herself to do was nod in response. Her eyes couldn't reach their height, lingering on the floor instead. What happened had felt quite indiscernible. Although, somehow, she'd felt like she knew exactly what had happened. Charles seemed to have left her—she could no longer feel his presence lingering. And she wondered, for a moment, if it had impacted him as negatively as it had her. Did he feel that pain? That teeth gnashing horror? Was he alright?</p><p>Steve guided her down the stairs, out of the room, and into the hall. Thor followed, but surpassed them as they reached the hallway. They moved slowly, taking their steps gingerly. However, with the pain and fear gone, and her anger all but depleted, she simply felt emptiness. Her own fears and the stress of it all was staggering. In her throat, a small lump burned, and she could feel it coming—a sob. The strangled sound echoed lightly in the otherwise empty hall, leaving her body trembling.</p><p>Their feet were halted the moment it happened. Steve stared at her with concern, empathy, as he briefly tightened his arm still around her shoulders. "Hey, it's gonna be okay. We'll find your brother," his voice was so sure, so warm. But Cassandra found herself pulling away from him, scrubbing her hands over her face as she leaned her butt against the wall. Maybe if she simply dried them away, the tears would stop? It was an innocent attempt. Though, it did not help.</p><p>Another sob wracked her body and her knees softened, buckling, causing her to slide down the length of the wall to the floor. Her knees in her chest, she tried her best to hide her face—furiously scrubbing at her cheeks, wiping it all away. "I just- I'm sorry- I just need a minute."</p><p>Steve glanced briefly either direction of the hall before stepping toward the wall, following suit to sit on the floor. Though, <em>he </em>was a little more graceful. "Don't apologize," he told her, resting his forearms atop his knees. "I knew this woman, a long time ago—one of my best friends, actually. She was the strongest person I'd ever met. Even <em>she </em>cried when things got tough. It's nothing to be ashamed of."</p><p>Cassandra took a deep breath before sniffling, trying desperately to rein herself in. It was a nice sentiment, a gesture she genuinely appreciated—though, it didn't do quite what he'd hoped. "Thanks. I've been like this for a <em>while</em>, actually. It's not new," she shook her head, wiping her tear-soaked palms on the knees of her jeans.</p><p>"I'm sorry to hear that," he said, and the way he voiced the words made her feel as though he somehow truly meant it. He'd just met her the same day—but it felt like it'd been spoken by a friend. Cassandra couldn't help the weakened, but grateful, smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. She read about Captain America when she was younger, the scrawny kid from Brooklyn that became a super soldier and fought Nazis. And, although every biography was factual, none of them came close to describing the man she was looking at.</p><p>He was polite, humble, genuine. It was clear that he truly cared for the people around him regardless of relationship—a rare quality, she knew. Though, she also knew, no one was that perfect. There had to be an exception. A line not to cross. Tipping her head back against the wall, she eyed him curiously. "I'm gonna be blunt," she said, the sudden inflammation inside her nose deepening her voice. "I don't trust anyone on this helicarrier."</p><p>Steve nodded slowly, thinking. "I can't say that I blame you. To be honest, I don't really know who to trust, either."</p><p>"I'm a mutant. Does that bother you?"</p><p>"Should it?"</p><p>"No," she gave a shake of her head, lifting it from the wall. "If it doesn't, you can trust me."</p><p>Steve huffed a small chuckle, the corner of his mouth pulling upward. "I know you don't like government but, if being a soldier doesn't bother you, you can trust me, too," he nodded once, confident in his response.</p><p>"Shake on it?"</p><p>Her hand raised mostly in jest, held up in the few inches of space between them, as her brow arched lazily. But Steve smiled and clasped his hand around hers, and Cassandra instinctively chuckled as they each gave their hands a shake, before she swiftly retracted. Then, pushed against the wall to stand. Halfway up, Steve stood and offered her a helping hand, and she accepted it gratefully. Every muscle held a faint ache, refusing to let go of the brief trauma they endured. What did it all mean?</p><p>Surely it couldn't all be simply a defense. It felt so much more real than a magic trick. More so like a memory, a lived experience, as she'd felt many times before with Charles' help. So, then, when did Loki feel such pain? Who caused it? And, most importantly—why was he feeling it now? With that much anguish bottled up, it was a wonder he was on his feet. It didn't make sense. Once upright, she held still for a moment to let a wave of dizziness pass. As it calmed, she found herself reaching out to the emptiness of her mind, asking for Charles. If anyone was going to give her answers, it would be him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. sense, manipulate, create</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anxiety pooled in the pit of her stomach as it became clear no response was coming. She tried to reach further, deeper, as she walked the halls of the helicarrier—but there was nothing. No voice, no feeling. Simply emptiness. A trembling hand reached up to wipe once more at her cheeks as she sniffled. This was a bad sign. Most likely, a sign that something had happened to Charles. Being independent from him felt different before, when she knew he would be there if she called again. Now, it felt <em>vulnerable</em>, isolated in a way that made her skin crawl.</p>
<p>Still, she kept her features blank as she walked beside Steve. He lead the way back toward the bridge. There was no doubt that Director Fury would be waiting with a list of questions and, possibly, a pair of shackles. However, the pair never quite made it there. As they passed the small laboratory set aside for Dr. Banner, movement caught Cassandra's eye—and she wished it hadn't. Inside, Tony Stark was giving Bruce a hand. He walked around the back of Banner, who was focusing on a computer, saying things inaudible from the outside. Then, Tony touched a pen-like device to Banner's side, and Banner jolted at the small zap it gave.</p>
<p>A small bout of the rage she'd felt before lingered like a ghost in her chest, and it bellowed at the sight of Tony's actions. She turned instinctively, stepping through the open door of the lab with a shout, "Hey! What the <em>fuck </em>do you think you're doing?"</p>
<p>Steve stopped walking upon hearing her voice, turning to find she'd left his side. He moved quickly to backtrack and enter the lab behind her as Tony spoke only to Banner. "You really have got a lid on it, haven't you?" he spoke rhetorically. "What's your secret? Mellow jazz, bongo drums, huge bag of weed?"</p>
<p>"Tony, the nineties called. They want their ignorance back," Cassandra scowled, standing on the other side of the table from both men.</p>
<p>"<em>Jesus</em>, who pissed in <em>your </em>cheerios?" Tony's quip was dry, grumbled as he turned to walk away from Banner. As he reached the corner of the table, he reached out and plucked a silver pouch of dried blueberries from another table nearby. Cassandra rolled her eyes—if anything, for the sake of removing them from him—and instead looked down, at Loki's scepter propped up on the table for tests.</p>
<p>The shimmering blue at the end was, she realized, actually quite pretty. "I saw what happened with Loki," Banner spoke suddenly, pulling her eyes away from the scepter. "You okay? It looked pretty intense."</p>
<p>"I'm fine, just...worried," she shook her head, exhaling.</p>
<p>Tony turned on his heels, stepping back toward the table before stopping, and shoving his hand into the silver packet. "Oh, really? What about? Your boyfriend's homicidal tendencies, or yours?"</p>
<p>Cassandra's gaze steeled as it shifted in his direction, jaw clenching against the anger that threatened to misuse her tongue. "Hey, show some respect," Steve told Tony, visibly annoyed by the billionaire's attitude.</p>
<p>"No, no—let him call the kettle black," Cassandra briefly waved a hand in a gesture to Steve, before glaring mercilessly at Stark. Tony's features flattened into a sour expression as he continued to shovel blueberries into his mouth. "Besides, Tony Stark doesn't respect anyone who isn't white, rich, and male. Would you like to share your violently anti-mutant views with the class? I mean, might as well while you're running your mouth."</p>
<p>Banner's slightly rounded eyes shifted from Cassandra's face to Tony's, shoulders tensed. Steve's head tilted as his expression echoed shock. Though, Tony appeared unmoved by all of it. "Why, so you have a reason to kill me? Might as well, like you said. It's not like you're going to face any consequences," he retorted.</p>
<p>"I suffer consequences for <em>existing</em>—I don't need to be dangerous for some arrogant shit-stick like you to take it upon themselves to take away my basic human rights and throw me in a cage. Of course, you'll turn a blind eye to the government experimentation like a true boot-licker because it doesn't win arguments. Last I checked, due process still exists and human beings are <em>human beings</em>."</p>
<p>Steve looked to Cassandra, alarmed. "The government experiments on mutants?"</p>
<p>"I personally know four people with horror stories, but there are many more," she nodded a little, glancing up at him briefly. "It doesn't help that Stark Industries builds them weapons to do it more effectively."</p>
<p>"And what proof do you have of <em>any </em>of it?" Tony questioned, challengingly, as he gestured out his arms.</p>
<p>"Tony, I bunked with a girl who could walk through walls, another could turn herself invisible. My professor was a telepath I still talk to," Cassandra tilted her head an inch, eyes narrowing at Stark. "You can't keep shit like that secret from us. The least you could do is have the balls to own up to it."</p>
<p>"Wait, so, let me get this straight. Stark industries is building weapons for the government, so they can kill mutants. And you know this because a telepathic school teacher told you," Bruce removed his glasses, carefully folding the frame.</p>
<p>"No. A shapeshifter told me. The telepath told me Fury's not far off from following suit," Cassandra corrected.</p>
<p>Steve was in a permanent state of shock as more and more new information hit him square in the chest. It seemed all he could do was ask questions. "S.H.I.E.L.D. is building weapons, too?"</p>
<p>"I can't confirm why but, yes. And they're using the Tesseract to do it. Supposedly, there are some base models on board."</p>
<p>"Do you know where they are?" he asked her, intrigue spiking.</p>
<p>Though, Cassandra wasn't immediately sure. She paused for a moment to think, eyes sliding off to the left, toward the open expanse of the room. It was not an image she had seen. However, that didn't always mean it wasn't there. That was often how Charles translated information—easily digestible, understandable pictures. The pictures, of course, belonged to feelings, to memories. They were always left behind, but the question now was if they were somewhere she could reach.</p>
<p>Charles' words played back, rewinding and running again as if from a tape recorder. She could feel it in her gut. The information was there—she simply could not <em>see </em>it. "Maybe," she tilted her head left and right in a so-so gesture. "We might end up inside a wall, but I can give it a shot."</p>
<p>"Look—not everything has to be so dramatic, okay? Give it an hour and I'll have all the information we need," Tony spoke up, digging his hand into the silver pouch.</p>
<p>"If it's all the same to you, I prefer to do things the old-fashioned way," Steve told him, confidently. Then, he looked to Cassandra and gave a nod. Tony, once again, rolled his eyes—this time, with the dramatic flare of an arrogant toddler. Cassandra ignored the man-child billionaire as she looked up at Steve and held out her hand, palm up. It was dangerous to attempt a jump without clear knowledge of the destination.</p>
<p>Though, this wasn't the first time she'd teleported with nothing but an idea. There had only been one or two, but each time had been successful—why wouldn't it be now? Steve turned to face Cassandra fully before clasping her hand with his. Then, together, they vanished into a cloud of purple. Bruce sighed heavily as he continued with his work. The conversation, the information that had come to light, was difficult to swallow. If anything, for the fact that he was forced to continue to work with Tony.</p>
<p>However, Bruce understood the importance. He knew this was a serious task, many lives were at stake, and he was willing to continue if it meant saving those lives. But he wasn't quite sure how to feel about the Stark Industries CEO moving forward. Tony wandered off to another monitor, tossing more blueberries into his mouth, and Bruce's eyes followed him. When Cassandra returned, Bruce decided, he would ask for proof. And something told him she would be able to provide it for him.</p>
<p>Cassandra wobbled, dizzied as she reappeared in a dimly lit room. A wall of black crates sat stacked high behind Steve, still holding onto her hand, all with various numbering printed onto the fronts. Steve glanced quickly at their surroundings, taking in a deep breath. "Is this it?" he asked. "Where are we?"</p>
<p>"Um...I think so. It looks like storage," Cassandra gave a small shrug, pulling her hand out of Steve's grip. She turned to look around as well, eyeing the line of crates behind her, too. There had to be some kind of indication, some kind of marking that could tell them if they were, in fact, in the right place.</p>
<p>So, she took slow steps along the aisle of storage containers and attempted to read the serial numbers. Steve followed slowly behind, watching her curiously. "What are you looking for?"</p>
<p>"I don't know. You think a tag that says 'dangerous weapons the government shouldn't be allowed to have' would be too obvious?"</p>
<p>Reading the numbers, however, was pointless if she was unaware of their purposes. It was infuriating to be so close, yet so clueless as to how to close the gap. Steve huffed a quiet chuckle, a few steps behind. Surely they wouldn't be <em>too </em>difficult to locate. If they were at all in the same room, he was willing to spend however long it took to find them. Though, at the same time, he knew finding the Tesseract was time-sensitive and, arguably, much more important.</p>
<p>He told himself this was how he could be of use. There was nothing he could do to locate the Tesseract at the moment—that was a job for the scientists. Maybe finding these weapons could help, too? Even still, proving they exist, adding some culpability to the theory, would be an excellent start. Then, a pull in Cassandra's gut. Her feet halted abruptly and Steve stopped quickly as not to run right into her back. She could feel it, pulsating along her spine like a game of <em>hot and cold</em>.</p>
<p>The motion of the warmth pulsating along the length of her spine began at the base and washed upward, fading out as it ascended, and she found herself looking up. Above them was another level, a metal walkway spanning the length of the room. "Up there," she pointed a finger toward it, drawing Steve's attention to its existence.</p>
<p>Steve didn't hesitate to jump, fingers circling around the metal railing of the second floor, and he swung his legs over effortlessly. Cassandra easily teleported up, appearing just behind him as Steve began following the walkway. She was quick to follow after him, but a gentle vibration caused her to pause. Instinctively, her hand flew to her back pocket, digging out her now ringing cell phone. Though there was no caller name, she recognized the number. Cassandra reached up a finger to press the green answer button and continued after Steve, walking a little faster to catch up from falling behind.</p>
<p>"Hello?" she answered the call quietly, holding the phone up to her ear.</p>
<p>Steve pried the door to a secondary storage room open, using brute strength to dislodge the computerized locking system. Once it was open, he stepped inside, Cassandra not far behind. The room was somewhat small—at least, in comparison to the last. In this room, the crates were silver, in stacks of two's and three's in sporadic placements. Almost like, Steve observed, they were loaded quickly.</p>
<p>Logan's voice crawled through the speaker as Cassandra entered the secondary room. "<em>Hey, kid, it's me. What the hell's goin' on? Are you in some kinda trouble?</em>"</p>
<p>"Um...not yet," she answered him half-heartedly, her thoughts tied up in watching Steve open one of the silver crates along the wall. "Is Charles okay?"</p>
<p>"<em>He's unconscious, but he'll be okay. Be honest with me—do you need backup?</em>"</p>
<p>The opened crate revealed a black mask, an oddly shaped gun placed beside it, with a symbol printed on the side. <em>Hydra</em>. Steve moved to the crate beside it and opened it, as well. Inside, the same contents. He twisted to look at Cassandra over his shoulder, features contorted with anger and rue. "No, this place is insane on security. If I need help, I'll send up a flare. I promise," Cassandra spoke into the phone, swallowing hard.</p>
<p>"Who is that?" Steve asked, turning away from the crates.</p>
<p>"<em>Kid, is someone in the room with you?</em>"</p>
<p>Cassandra held the phone to her chest in a pointless attempt to keep her response from reaching Logan's finely tuned ears. "It's a friend of mine, another mutant. He's just checking on me," she told Steve. Then, she held the phone back up, "It's a friendly. I gotta go."</p>
<hr/>
<p>Director Fury marched into the lab to find Tony sitting cross-legged atop the table, next to the scepter. Bruce stood a foot to Tony's left. "What are you doing, Mr. Stark?" Fury questioned, approaching the idle pair.</p>
<p>"Uh, kind of been wondering the same thing about you," Tony answered.</p>
<p>"You're supposed to be locating the Tesseract," the Director reminded, biting his tongue. Though, there was no hiding his frustration.</p>
<p>Bruce spoke up, "We are. The model's locked and we're sweeping for the signature now. When we get a hit, we'll have the location within half a mile."</p>
<p>"Yeah, then you get your cube back. No muss, no fuss," Tony's eyes shot to the screen near his face at the sound of a small beep. "What <em>is </em>'Phase Two'?"</p>
<p>It was then that Cassandra and Steve returned from their storage room venture. However, this time, Steve was not empty handed. He let go of Cassandra to step to the left, before placing one of the Hydra weapons they'd found on the island. All eyes were sent straight toward it at the loud, metallic thud it made—all but Fury's. The Director stood with his hands on his hips, eyes slightly downcast. It was all beginning to spiral, he knew.</p>
<p>"Phase Two is S.H.I.E.L.D. uses the cube to make weapons," Steve answered, firmly, as he glanced around at the others. Cassandra remained beside him, her eyes a steely glare, hot against the side of Fury's face.</p>
<p>Director Fury attempted to explain the find, "Rogers, we gathered everything related to the Tesseract. This does not mean-"</p>
<p>He was interrupted by Tony. "I'm sorry, Nick. What were you lying?" he asked, sarcastic, as he turned the screen in front of him to face Fury. On the screen was a schematic, a plan for just that—Tesseract-powered weapons. There before them all was proof of what Cassandra had said. And the Director had been backed into a very difficult corner to navigate. However, Agent Romanoff and Thor entered the room before he could attempt such a feat.</p>
<p>Bruce used his folded glasses to point at Romanoff. "Did <em>you </em>know about this?" he questioned, slowly moving around from behind the table.</p>
<p>"You want to think about removing yourself from this environment, Doctor?" Romanoff replied, ignoring the question.</p>
<p>Cassandra folded her arms tightly over her chest. "Answer him."</p>
<p>Romanoff's eyes moved to Cassandra, demeanor colored in an echo of defense and anticipation. "Loki is manipulating him," she tried to explain.</p>
<p>"That's not what we're discussing, if you haven't noticed," Cassandra narrowed her eyes, tightening her shoulders to help control the tremble of her muscles. "Why the hell is S.H.I.E.L.D. using Nazi weaponry to design weapons of mass destruction powered by the Tesseract? Something that, by the way, doesn't even belong on this <em>planet</em>."</p>
<p>"Because of <em>him</em>," Fury finally spoke up, aiming an index finger at the tall, blonde god standing near him. "Last year, Earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge-match that leveled a small town. We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously out-gunned."</p>
<p>"My people want nothing but peace with your planet," Thor defended, allowing his arms to fall to his sides.</p>
<p>Fury turned to face him. "But you're not the only people out there, are you? And you're not the only threat. The world's filling up with people who can't be matched, that can't be controlled."</p>
<p>"They're not supposed to be <em>controlled</em>. How do you not see what kind of slippery slope you're on?" Cassandra questioned, heat swelling beneath the skin of her palms. "Make weapons to protect us? Fine. But this government has a long, <em>bloody </em>history of misusing its power to kill innocent people. This isn't smart—it's reckless."</p>
<p>Thor took steps forward, adding to her statement, "And your work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki to it, and his allies. It is a signal to all the realms that the Earth is ready for a higher form of <em>war</em>."</p>
<p>"You forced our hand," Fury stood his ground, looking to Thor. Then, to Cassandra, "We had to come up with <em>something</em>."</p>
<p>"A nuclear deterrent. Because that always calms everything right down," Tony commented.</p>
<p>Cassandra's heated gaze moved swiftly to Tony, still standing by the screen. "That's rich coming from the man who made billions making advanced military weapons until they threatened <em>his own</em> safety," she snapped, spitting the words at him with vitriol. "Or, at least, you stopped making them until you realized you could solve the <em>mutant problem</em>."</p>
<p>"<em>What</em> are you talking about?" Director Fury questioned her, turning back toward her with a perplexed expression.</p>
<p>"You're all so <em>fucking </em>naive! Bigger weapons don't fix jackshit—they just create a bigger response. And now you've told <em>all </em>the realms that we're open for business while jacking off over the Tesseract, inventing more ways for innocents to die and due process to be awarded only to 'normal' people. Do you honestly not know about the Sentinels? Government experimentation? Plastic guns with darts full of the mutant cure? <em>That </em>is where shit like this starts, and it ends with every powered person on this planet dead or under a <em>fucking </em>microscope because <em>you </em>wanted to play <em>God</em>."</p>
<p>Cassandra had taken steps forward as she spoke, fingers balled tightly into fists, paling her knuckles. Fury stared down at her defiantly but his features were ever so slightly relaxed. It appeared as though he were truly listening, understanding her very real concerns. However, everyone else in the room had taken a different approach. They all stood back, eyes round and fearful, apprehensive as the blue held by the scepter started to violently glow halfway through.</p>
<p>It was Steve who came forward. He carefully placed a hand on her shoulder, gentle as not to startle her and cause a reaction, and her eyes were forced to peel themselves away from the Director. "Cassandra, take a deep breath," Steve looked only at her, worried eyes cautiously meeting hers. "I understand what you're saying, and you have every right to say it, but you're doing something to the scepter."</p>
<p>Cassandra blinked, confused eyes moving to the table where the scepter remained propped up. Sure enough, the blue orb glowed brightly, the heat in her hands just as energized. Had she truly done that? Though, she wasn't sure what she'd done other than turn the lighting up a notch. Gritting her teeth against the lingering rage, she forced the energy away, back up into her arms—where she could feel it crawling through her veins. The scepter's blue glow dimmed abruptly, and she gasped quietly.</p>
<p>"Son of a bitch," she muttered, under her breath. This was Loki's plan. To get her close to the scepter, to manipulate her into giving life to its otherwise idle orb. Instinctively, she hurried toward it, stopping just short of bumping into the table, and she reached out her hand. "Any idea what this is made of?"</p>
<p>"Uh…" Bruce was uneasy, shifting his weight. "I can't say that I do—my guess would be something similar to the cube."</p>
<p>"So, if it's full of energy, I could theoretically sense anyone connected with it," her words were rhetorical. Bruce's eyes widened, the information lighting an invisible bulb of realization above each head in the room, and he moved to stand on the other side of the table from her.</p>
<p>"Yeah, you probably can," he nodded quickly. "Is that what you do—you can feel energy?"</p>
<p>Cassandra shrugged half-heartedly as she began to search for the energy emitted from the scepter. "Sense, manipulate, create."</p>
<p>"Why didn't you just ask <em>her </em>to locate the Tesseract?" Bruce questioned, lifting his head to look at Director Fury, still standing just across the room.</p>
<p>"After what you just heard, you really think she would've if we asked?" Fury countered, calmly.</p>
<p>He had a point. However, the truth behind it didn't make it look any less lazy. If Fury had played this game differently, maybe she would have? Maybe she would have eagerly helped locate it? But the secrecy and their first meeting only soured any goodwill there could have been. Still, Cassandra focused on the orb inside the scepter, and the blue began to flourish once more.</p>
<p>Lavender wisps sparked amongst her fingers, veins on the underside of her arm visible in deep purple beneath the skin. She'd never felt energy, power, quite like this before. It spawned out to many inhabitants, many minds it had been plugged into, powering them through various tasks at Loki's command. Then, she felt it. <em>Clint</em>. "I found Clint," she blurted it out in a rush of focused excitement.</p>
<p>Agent Romanoff came forward, standing a foot beside Cassandra. "Where is he?"</p>
<p>"He's…" Cassandra focused a little harder, zoning in on a single individual use of energy. He was not far, she knew. He was so close, somewhere just outside, near but beyond her reach. And it struck her. "H-he's outside the helicarrier?"</p>
<p>Despite the sudden revelation, there was not time for discussion, or even comprehension. Clint stood at the door of a quinjet that hovered just enough out of the helicarrier's orbit, just enough to avoid damage as he aimed an arrow in his bow. Then, he fired it at one of the helicarrier's engines. When the arrow hit its target, the engine exploded violently, large pieces of its workings falling off into the depths of the atmosphere. Flames from the explosion were sent barreling rapidly through the vents of the helicarrier, coming to a head beneath the laboratory.</p>
<p>Flame and heat burst through the vents, cratering in the flooring, and those in the room were pushed outward by the force. Tony, Steve, Fury, and Thor were sent spiraling to what remained of the floor as the glass of the room's windows shattered out of their frames. Agent Romanoff, Bruce, and Cassandra plunged into the fiery crater, falling onto the grate of a large vent below. They hit the metal hard, broken glass and metal pieces falling on top of them.</p>
<p>Agents all across the helicarrier were thrown into action as the craft struggled to keep itself in the air. Steve clambered up from the floor and helped Tony to his feet haphazardly, and they moved as quickly as they could out of the lab to spring into action as well. Fury sat up, shaking his head in an attempt to free himself from a bout of disorienting fog and dizziness. Though, instinctively, he reached a hand up to his ear piece. "Hill!"</p>
<p>"<em>External detonation</em>," Agent Hill replied, through the comm. "<em>Number three engine is down. We've been hit</em>."</p>
<p>"Can they get it running?" he questioned.</p>
<p>"<em>Somebody's got to get outside and patch that engine</em>."</p>
<p>Cassandra heaved in a dry breath, gaining nothing but smoke-tainted oxygen and a sharp pain in her rib cage. Broken wires sizzled and popped, damaged pipes steamed, and it felt like the whole craft was spinning. Noise hit her ears hard from all directions, all sources—but faint grunting, panting, caught her attention. Slowly, she eased her head to the side. Bruce was on his stomach, clutching desperately to the metal grate as his muscles spasmed uncontrollably.</p>
<p>He could feel the rage taking hold. It was in the way his heart raced unnaturally, how his gut twinged, and his head felt like a pressurized container. Cassandra pushed against the grate, rolling onto her side, and winced loudly at the pain shooting up her spine. "Bruce? Hey," she tried desperately to get his attention, gritting her teeth through the pain and dizziness as she continued to push herself upright. "Everything's okay. We're gonna be fine. Bruce? Do you hear me?"</p>
<p>Agent Romanoff was slightly disoriented as well, face down on the grate. She'd hit her head a little too hard, blood trailing its way down the side of her forehead. But she rose up on her elbows at the sound of Fury's voice in her ear, calling her name. Instinctively, she reacted, making to get up. Something forced her leg still, prohibiting her from truly going anywhere. She twisted over her shoulder and sighed heavily at the sight of her leg pinned beneath a large metal pipe.</p>
<p>So, instead of standing, she reached a hand up to her ear piece. "We're okay," she told Fury. Then, she looked to Cassandra, now finally on her knees atop the grate. "We're okay, right?"</p>
<p>Cassandra neglected to respond. In truth, she hardly heard Romanoff's voice. She bent over Bruce's anguished frame, a hand on his shoulder, speaking as calmly and gently as she could muster given the state of their situation. "Fight it, Bruce. You can do this," she attempted to be encouraging. "Just stay calm—<em>breathe.</em>"</p>
<p>Maintenance workers spotted the fallen trio. They began to make their way toward them, but Romanoff waved them away urgently. The pair of workers were quick to disappear at the Agent's behest, running away from them. "Cass, my leg. You have to move the pipe," Romanoff turned to see Cassandra.</p>
<p>"Hold on-"</p>
<p>The Agent interrupted, speaking swiftly, "You can't stop him, okay? We <em>have </em>to get out of here. <em>Now</em>."</p>
<p>Cassandra could feel the energy building within Bruce. It was far too rapid, far too strong. Somehow, the energy there felt alive all its own, carrying the same weight as any other person's energy she'd touched. The mass of green muscle and rage became clear now in her mind. It had a face, hair, hands, a heart and a brain. It felt alive because it <em>was </em>alive. What Charles had shown her was an image of what lay restlessly beneath the doctor's skin, and there was no telling the damage it could incur should it get out. No, not 'it'—<em>he</em>.</p>
<p>Romanoff was right, she knew. Though, that knowledge did not ease the ache in her chest as she let go of Bruce's shoulder. Reluctantly, she shifted closer to Romanoff's leg, and reached for the large pipe. It was then that Bruce began to change shape—his skin melted into a dense green shade, muscles growing and bulging, ripping the fabric of his purple dress shirt. The Hulk was not coming. He had arrived.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. tame the beast</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The metal pipe was heavy—much too heavy for Cassandra's weakened arms. She tried grabbing hold of Romanoff's leg and pulling it instead, though that didn't end in a different result. Bruce fell from the grate, rolling onto the hard flooring in a mess of thrashes and groans as his body had almost taken its final shape. The sounds were reminiscent of a dog huffing and growling.</p>
<p>Cassandra sighed heavily and reached for the pipe once again, this time placing only a hand on it. She teleported, taking the pipe with her to the flooring beside the grate, and she dropped the extra foot—landing hard on her knees. The pipe was now out of the way, but Cassandra paced against the floor on her palms, riding a wave of heat and ache that rippled through her knees to her hips. It was a shock, as though she'd suddenly chilled a sensitive tooth.</p>
<p>Romanoff, now freed, scrambled quickly to her knees, and then to her feet. Although she trembled, head still swirled, she stepped down from the grate to grab at Cassandra's arms. "Come on, get up," she urged, giving her arms a tug. "We need to go—come on."</p>
<p>An indistinguishable sound drew Romanoff's eyes, jerking them up. A tall mass of muscle stood a few feet away, huffing angrily as it tightened its fists, shaking its head in an attempt to fully free itself. Free from the confines of Bruce Banner's consciousness. The monster turned to look at its company, and it was clear—Bruce was gone. Romanoff kept her eyes on it as she quickly yanked on Cassandra, forcing her to her feet far too soon. Then, it roared, an ear-piercing bellow that caused Cassandra to lurch, spinning on her aching heels to find the source.</p>
<p>It was the kind of sound that struck fear into the mightiest of men without so much as a glimpse of the creature. The sounds you imagine sea monsters and dinosaurs make as a kid reading stories. Under other circumstances, she might have felt in awe of the sheer ferocity behind it. The being before them was so tall, nearly made of pure muscle, it seemed, and its eyes were full of an incredibly strong rage. Something within Cassandra's gut pulled at her.</p>
<p>In a way, she sympathized with him. Anger was often an insecure byproduct of fear. Why <em>wouldn't </em>he be afraid? Why <em>wouldn't </em>he be <em>angry</em>? After all, wasn't Cassandra? She tugged her arms free from Agent Romanoff's hands and took a step forward. "Get out of here," she said, over her shoulder. On the second step, she gave a half jog, before disappearing in her signature cloud.</p>
<p>Then, there she was, arms wrapping around the creature's neck and holding on tight. He was startled only slightly by the sudden change before he began to fidget, twisting and reaching upward to swat and grab at her. She was quick to teleport again, this time with him as well. The pair left behind a rather large cloud. Though, it dissipated quickly. Cassandra wasn't entirely sure where to take him that he wouldn't be destructive.</p>
<p>Surely, he would do damage anywhere on the helicarrier, and she couldn't leave the others behind—not when Clint had been so close. So, she thought of the cargo hold. An area large enough for the planes they'd kept on the flight deck. That would be enough, she thought. A perfect place to keep him distracted until they could bring <em>Bruce </em>back. Cassandra was still held tight to his neck when they appeared in the cargo area. Their sudden presence halted the nearby crew, who all had been rushing around like frightened rats not a moment prior.</p>
<p>They'd brought all the bustle to a sudden stop. The creature was momentarily disoriented, and Cassandra took the few seconds to teleport from his back, instead opting to stand two yards in front of him. She waved a hand urgently at the crew and shouted, "Go! <em>Move</em>!"</p>
<p>Every crew member present was jolted into movement once again—this time, to remove themselves from the room completely, important tasks be damned. "Hey, big guy," she spoke then to the tall, green being fuming behind her. "Do you know who I am? Do you remember me?"</p>
<p>Despite her efforts, he did not calm. However, as his fists tightened and his body stiffened in anticipation, he only glared and growled in response. As he opened his mouth to roar angrily, a silver hammer burst through the wall of the cargo area and rammed into his torso. The hit pushed the beast aside, sending him into the large crates nearby, crushing the wing of a stationary plane. A jolt of adrenaline shot through Cassandra with a gasp and she looked quickly to find Thor.</p>
<p>Thor walked swiftly toward the creature as he began to right himself, the hammer on the floor beside him. "Stop! What are you doing?" Cassandra all but shrieked as she surged forward, moving into Thor's path. Her palms pushed against his metal breastplate desperately, but stopping Thor could not reverse the anger he'd instilled in the green being.</p>
<p>Thor replied, "<em>Someone</em> has to tame the beast!"</p>
<p>The creature raged, roaring loudly before lunging forward, charging toward Thor and Cassandra. Thor was quick to push Cassandra aside with a sweep of his arm, the other reaching out to call to his weapon, but it was a moment too late. He was effectively head-butted by the enormous being as Cassandra stumbled, shoulder hitting the floor once again, and stifled a cry. If pain was a brick, she'd have built herself a wall by now. This whole charade, she knew, was exactly what Loki wanted. He wanted them to fight, to destroy themselves, to waste time. <em>To destroy the helicarrier</em>.</p>
<p>Though, the idea seemed lost on Thor. He was thrown through a stack of crates, rolling onto the floor, and he pushed himself up eagerly. It was <em>exciting </em>to fight, especially fighting a creature like this one. Thor threw out his hand and the hammer he'd brought with him—<em>Mjölnir</em>, Cassandra recalled—soared through the air as the beast charged toward him again. The weapon landed securely in his palm, fingers wrapping tightly around the handle, just as the creature arrived. Thor stood then, catching it with his hammer on an upward swing.</p>
<p>The large, green creature was sent sprawling onto another small plane, crushing most of it. Hitting him only further enraged the beast. So, he stood up off the plane and grabbed hold of its semi-crushed wing, before ripping it off the hull. He sent it toward Thor as though it were a frisbee, and Thor ducked just before it could harm him. The plane wing crushed the top of a jeep a few yards behind Thor, glass shards sprinkling the floor like glitter. Then, Thor threw his hammer at the beast, and the creature caught it. However, its back trajectory pulled him along with it.</p>
<p>It pulled him through the air a few more yards before hitting the ground and remaining in place. The creature growled as he tugged on the handle to no avail. It was stuck in its spot, refusing to budge even an inch—not moving even as he stood up and used the full power of his body's muscles. Instead, the floor crumbled, breaking beneath his feet under the strong weight. Thor took the opportunity of the distraction to leap up, sending his knee into the creature's face.</p>
<p>Cassandra rolled onto her stomach and pushed against the floor with trembling limbs, sharp and dull pains echoing out like sparks in various places, forcing her knees to bend beneath her through gritted teeth. "Thor!" she barked the name, attempting to gain his attention. "You're gonna destroy the helicarrier!"</p>
<p>Though, neither Thor, nor the creature, were listening. Thor's arms were around the beasts neck, using his hammer to not only hold on, but to choke him. As Cassandra finally made it to her feet with a gentle stumble, the creature leapt up through the ceiling onto the next floor, taking Thor with him. She wondered, briefly, how she got stuck with <em>these </em>two. Why <em>her</em>, of all people? It would have been Agent Romanoff, had she not tried to be a hero. Maybe this was for the best? Maybe she could do <em>something </em>after all?</p>
<p>Fingers balled into fists, she teleported up to the next level, sounds of thuds, roars, and glass shattering echoing loudly through the metal floor. When she arrived, they were tussling near a wall of large windows. If one of them went through those, she quickly realized, they would fall all the way to whatever was below the helicarrier at the moment. With neither of them listening, she was forced to take drastic action. The creature threw Thor across the small room, toward Cassandra, and she acted quickly.</p>
<p>The heel of her shoe pressed into Thor's chest as she held up her hand toward the bellowing creature across the room, and the green beast stilled. She wasn't strong enough to completely disempower him, and it was not her intention to inflict pain, so she dampened his energy gently, slowly. Just enough to take the edge off his insatiable rage. Thor was still as well, though for the sake of not interrupting. Whatever she was doing was working. If he got up and continued to fight him, it would only make matters worse, he knew.</p>
<p>He knew that, despite the adrenaline rush that flowed through his veins at the challenge. Slowly, Cassandra removed her foot from his chest, and took a step toward the creature. "Easy now," she spoke as softly as she could manage, calm in spite of a threatened tremble. "It's okay. I'm a <em>friend</em>. We're friends, right?"</p>
<p>The beast stood still, though he breathed heavily, features contorted in confusion at the sudden loss of drive. The sudden peace. He heard her—she could tell in the way his eyes lingered on her, just as cautious of her as she was of him. A low, hum of a grunt rumbled from his chest in acknowledgement. Although, she wasn't sure which part he was acknowledging. Still, she continued to approach, keeping the low level of energy steady. Her feet stood still two yards from him. Now her neck craned back to look up as high as his face, and her hands visibly shook, but she wasn't about to stop. She couldn't.</p>
<p>"You're safe with me, I promise," she told him. "Do you have a name?"</p>
<p>However angrily, the creature huffed and grunted, adjusting his position to shift back as his fists opened and closed—testing his strength with the loss of energy. Though, there <em>was </em>something familiar about her. What was it? Her hair, her eyes, even the strained look of calm to her face—it all lead him back to a specific place in his memory. A sweet, gentle place he wished he could stay in forever. And although he didn't feel anything toward this woman before him, the woman in his heart had a mind-numbing effect, lowering his anger levels naturally.</p>
<p>"Hulk," his voice was deep and somewhat mangled, but the word stood out.</p>
<p>It felt familiar to Cassandra, and she supposed she had Charles to thank for that. "Okay. I'm going to let you go now, Hulk. But you <em>have </em>to stay calm," she said, before taking a step back of her own.</p>
<p>"Hulk...stay calm."</p>
<p>"Yes, <em>very </em>calm."</p>
<p>It was hard to tell how much of his cooperation was forced and how much was a conscious choice. Still, ever so slowly, she began to ease up. She gave the energy back, little by little. The change was visible in the Hulk—his fists tightened further, chest heaving a bit more as his pulse began to increase, and he exhaled quickly through his nose like a bull about to charge. Yet his feet remained still, shoulders hunched inward as Cassandra finally let go completely—something deep within him urging him to truly oblige her request.</p>
<p>Her hand fell to her side but she remained cautious, ready to bring it up again should she need it. Though, a bout of calm rushed down the length of her spine that gave a chill, and she knew she wouldn't need to. "That's good- you're doing great," she commended him, almost as a mother would a small child. "Thank you."</p>
<p>Thor stood now, in the place he'd been before, and he watched with the most perplexed expression. Then, he saw it—a jet hovering into the cubby hole outside the windows, careful as it positioned itself to aim at the windows, at the Hulk's back. "Watch out!" Thor called out, aiming a finger toward the glass as he quickly moved forward. Hulk twisted to look behind as a barrage of bullets peppered the glass, shattering nearly all the remaining windows. He was quick to turn away, hunching as he stepped forward, stopping any bullets from reaching Cassandra where she sheltered in place only a few feet before him.</p>
<p>She'd only crouched as she turned away, arms covering her head in a reactionary decision. But she twisted on her feet to see over her shoulder in the absence of bullets and the back of her throat burned, seeing the Hulk much closer, the large being using his own incredibly thick skin to shield her there. Thor hurried, using the sudden cover to grab Cassandra and pull her aside, toward the door—out of the line of fire. It was another slight thud against the hard ground, but it was better than being shot by a fighter jet.</p>
<p>Hulk was ignited with a fiery rage from the attack, not only on him but <em>her</em>, roaring as he turned to move toward the windows. He leapt from the broken window, diving over the clouds below, and landed on the nose of the jet. He climbed over the cockpit as the jet rapidly backed out of the space, trying to shake him loose. But the Hulk was ripping and tearing and pulling the jet apart in a fury. The pilot had no choice but to eject and hope for the best. It was then that the helicarrier steadily began to slant.</p>
<p>Debris, crates, tables, and chairs slid along the floor rapidly, some falling into the hole in the floor. Thor and Cassandra fought to remain on the left side of the room, adjusting to push against the sudden change in gravity, but her eyes remained on the windows—the trail of black smoke, her jaw slack, as the jet spun out of view. "Loki!" Thor managed to grunt out, clawing at the floor to stay.</p>
<p>Blinking herself out of a daze, Cassandra nodded quickly. "Go!"</p>
<p>Thor grabbed the door frame to help himself out of the room and Cassandra struggled to remain on her knees. Her heart was beating hard against her rib cage, the back of her throat ablaze. This was an utter mess. However, one thought reignited the last ounces of her will—Clint was likely on board by now, helping to free Loki either directly or by distraction. That meant he was close enough to rescue. So, again, she reached out in her thoughts for Charles. She called to him as she followed Thor's lead, grabbing hold of the door frame to help her stand.</p>
<p>The helicarrier's descent and the damage done to her body was dizzying, but she kept a hand on the wall to steady her as she continued into the hallway. Agents in all kinds of uniforms and gear ran through in either direction, all of them also fighting the slant of the aircraft. Some carried guns, some carried first aid. Her feet shuffled quickly in an unknown direction, calling out all the while. It wasn't until she'd reached a crossroads that she felt the faintest numbness, a gentle vibration at the base of her skull. "Charles?" she blurted, feet stumbling to stop as fast as her brain commanded.</p>
<p><em>Apologies for the delay—I'm afraid I was incapacitated,</em> Charles' voice warmed the inside of her skull. <em>What do you need?</em></p>
<p>"I need to find Clint. I think he's on the helicarrier."</p>
<p>There was the briefest pause. More random agents passed through as she stayed close to the wall, waiting on an answer. She wasn't sure just where they were going—most likely to help people affected by the engine explosion. Finally, Charles spoke again. <em>He is below you, in the cargo level. Here</em>.</p>
<p>An image filtered into her vision, coming quickly to the forefront of her mind. The area was reminiscent of where she'd left Agent Romanoff. And, sure enough, the agent came into view, tussling with a mind-controlled Clint on a maintenance access walkway—and, at the moment, it looked like he was winning. "Thanks," she nodded once, her focus dialed into one objective. Though, it was difficult to remain composed at the same time. Cassandra teleported, purple smoke and translucent sparks enveloping the space as she appeared in the place she'd been shown.</p>
<p>It was a metal aisle way amongst the guts of the helicarrier. Clint held a knife, aimed at Agent Romanoff's throat, with the other hand yanking her head back by her hair. "<em>Clint</em>!" Cassandra's voice was a mixture of a distraction and a reactionary gasp. The name bubbled up her throat subconsciously, as she lurched forward. Walking quickly toward the tangled pair of assassins, Clint turned his head robotically a moment before she'd reached them, and her hand shot up to the back of his head as she caught a glimpse of his blue-glazed eyes.</p>
<p>The sight was enraging, heartbreaking, and terrifying at the same time. But there was no time to truly think it over. She grabbed hold of the scepter's energy within Clint's mind and <em>squeezed</em>. It was strong, pushing back against her as Clint's body began to falter. The knife clattered to the ground and Agent Romanoff slipped out of his hold—but Cassandra continued to squeeze, forcing the energy to compact. Then, she pulled. As she shifted away a step, taking her hand with her, the energy followed. It chased itself in an ice blue sphere at Cassandra's palm.</p>
<p>Clint collapsed. Romanoff rushed forward, catching him before his head could hit the railing, taking gentle care despite the fact that he was about to kill her only a moment ago. But that was not Clint, she knew. Now, he was free, but he was unconscious. She looked up at Cassandra, the orb between both hands now. "What are you gonna do with that?"</p>
<p>"If I absorb it, chances are, it'll infect me, too," Cassandra spoke through a clenched jaw, struggling to keep the energy contained as it fought her. "I'm gonna destroy it."</p>
<p>Cassandra took quick steps backward, putting enough space between her and her brother to do what had to be done. Though, she'd never dissolved an energy this strong, this <em>sentient </em>before. But what choice did she have? She held it firmly with both hands and pulled outward, tugging the energy apart against its defiance. It grew brighter as it visibly stretched, thinning and thinning, and the color was swallowed up by a vibrant purple. Then, it sparked like a cut wire before exploding. A short burst of energy was released—but it was small, and it was <em>hers</em>.</p>
<p>Chest heaving, she allowed her arms to fall to her sides. Agent Romanoff watched the spectacle with a slack jaw, but was quickly to blink it away as Cassandra took careful steps toward them. Cassandra had hardly noticed that the ground was even now, righted as it should be, until she knelt beside the agents and didn't feel the pull of the gravity tugging at her sleeve. She reached out and scooped Clint's torso up, into her arms from Romanoff. And, although there was no way to tell if he was truly alright now, she exhaled relief as she hugged him to her chest.</p>
<p>Romanoff reached a hand up to her earpiece and called for medical assistance but the words didn't quite touch Cassandra's ears. The fight was far from over, though it felt like she'd won, with Clint finally safe—unreachable by Loki, or anyone she refused to let near, in her arms where she could protect him. Despite being the youngest Barton sibling, Cassandra often found herself falling naturally into the role of the protector. The mother, the guide, the caretaker. And she would gladly fill those shoes a thousand times if it meant her brothers were safe.</p>
<p>She cradled him carefully until the medical personnel arrived and, even then, she hesitated in letting him go. But Agent Romanoff placed a ginger hand on her shoulder, gaining her attention. "He'll be okay. He's safe now," she spoke calmly to her, though her forehead still beaded sweat and she struggled to keep her breathing in check. "They'll take good care of him—I promise."</p>
<p>Cassandra nodded numbly—of course, she knew, they would. They didn't carry weapons, nor were they infected by Loki. They were simply medics. So, she peeled herself away and allowed them to put him on a backboard. They hefted his weight and began to carry him out, and she stood to follow. A brick of dizziness smacked her between the eyes and she reached out, quickly gripping the metal railing of the walkway with both hands, squeezing tightly as she exhaled a deep breath. "Are you alright?" Romanoff asked, stepping closer to her side.</p>
<p>"Fine...just- a little dizzy. It'll wear off," she answered through clenched teeth. Her forehead creased, eyebrows drawn tight in a knot, as her insides swayed.</p>
<p>It was then the agent heard Fury's voice in her ear. Romanoff's head turned instinctively, listening as the Director spoke. "<em>Agent Coulson is down</em>," he said. A shiver ran up her spine as every muscle tensed.</p>
<p>Another agent spoke next, "<em>A medical team is on its way to your location</em>."</p>
<p>"<em>They're already here</em>," Fury replied. It was the dread, the mourning already in his voice that gave away his next words, "<em>They called it</em>."</p>
<p>Agent Coulson was dead. How? Why? Those questions seemed so small in comparison to the revelation itself. It was the knowledge that he was gone that angered Agent Romanoff—no, <em>enraged</em>. Whatever the direct reason, it all boiled down to Loki. If it weren't for <em>him</em>, no one would be where they are now, no one would have been harmed. She straightened her shoulders as her hands balled into fists at her sides. "Coulson's dead," she forced the words out, despite the taste of bile they'd tainted her tongue with.</p>
<p>Cassandra blinked hard, as she turned her head enough to see the agent beside her. Had she truly just said that? She hoped, secretly, that it was somehow a mistake, that she'd misheard her due to the dizziness and all-over body aches. But that was not the case. No, Agent Romanoff was telling the truth—no matter how much either of them wished she wasn't. "W-what? What happened?" she questioned. She shifted on her feet to face Romanoff, a hand still on the railing to steady herself.</p>
<p>"I don't know, but I'm going to find out," Romanoff shook her head. "Let's get you to medical—you should be there when Clint wakes up."</p>
<p>Her movements were instinctual, absentminded as she took another step closer and hooked her arm around Cassandra's torso. In her shock, Cassandra shuffled along with Agent Romanoff, toward the open door at the end of the aisle way. Agent Romanoff was far versed in the art of compartmentalizing, but some things still managed to get under her skin—digging their claws deep into the tissue, making their home in the muscle and, some, even the <em>bone</em>. This was one of those things, she knew. Though, she was able to keep it at tissue-level as they walked.</p>
<p>If it managed to become any deeper, she would need a moment alone. To scream, to cry, to <em>breathe</em>. Still, she helped Cassandra through the hallways, the mutual interest in Clint's well-being driving them both to find the small room they'd placed him in. It was best, Romanoff told Cassandra, to keep him isolated until he woke up. Then, they could assess just how free from Loki's control he really was. It made sense to Cassandra. Though, when they finally reached the doorway, she found herself hesitant to cross the threshold.</p>
<p>Clint lay on a makeshift bed against the back wall, still stuck in a heavy slumber. It was a relief to have him back, to be able to see where he was and know that he was safe. But her chest burned at the thought of the reasoning for his time away. Guilt—gut-wrenching, <em>twisting </em>guilt—bubbled up and lumped in her throat, staring at his closed eyes from the doorway. If she hadn't believed Loki, let him into her home and her life, there was a chance her brother would not have gone through this. It was that small chance that her mind was stuck on.</p>
<p>It clung to the possibility, furthering the guilt, and her chest felt like it was being forcefully squeezed. Lungs unable to pump properly, throat unable to be cleared, Cassandra took steps backward out of the room. "I need some air," she said, the voice from her lips shaking as it tumbled out all too quickly. Her feet turned and she distanced herself, walking down the hall as the door hissed closed behind her. It felt as though she were being choked from the inside. The scabbed over wounds from Sabretooth's claws at the back of her neck stung in remembrance, anxiety rushing in, in the wake of the prior adrenaline-fueled hour.</p>
<p>In the moment, she'd felt not a fraction of what she should have. No real fear, or terror, or anger, or sadness. Simply instinct and will to survive. Now, alone again, she could feel it all—and it was <em>painful</em>. Water brimmed within her eyes, hot tears rolling silently over her cheekbones, and she kept walking. Slowly, she kept moving, traveling aimlessly along the hallway in a mess of overwhelming emotion without a place to store it all, hands wringing anxiously. Then, <em>thump</em>. Eyes downcast, head tilted forward, her forehead hit something hard only a second before the rest of her face followed.</p>
<p>With a small jolt, a rush up her spine that peppered her arms with bumps, she took a quick step back. It was a mixture of a lurch and a shuffle. But, as the appearance of the man before her settled in, she realized she didn't need to go any farther. His name rolled off her tongue amongst a heavy breath of trembling relief, softening her features enough to release more quiet tears. "<em>Logan</em>."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. inviting themselves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It didn't matter, then, how he'd gotten there or why he was suddenly standing in front of her—all that mattered was that he was there, within reach. She fell into him, gripping the leather of his jacket tight enough to pale her knuckles, and his muscled arms were quick to wrap around her trembling frame. "Hey, shh, I've got you. What happened?" he asked, talking quietly as the side of his chin touched her right temple. "You okay? You hurt?"</p>
<p>Cassandra's shoulder muscles tensed as a surge of tears forced her open mouth shut, eyes squeezed tightly closed. "I-it's all my f-fault."</p>
<p>"You can't blame yourself for this, kid. You just can't," Logan shook his head a little. He held her as tightly as she held onto him. The comfort of seeing her unharmed physically was an enormous relief, a much-needed syringe of peace in his arm to quill the worry running rampant within his head since Charles had first made contact. Logan has refused to leave the room—pacing, listening, waiting for the call to act, instead.</p>
<p>Nothing else would have kept him quite so at bay. Despite his words, she continued to cry. How was she to believe them when her own heart told her otherwise? "Listen to me—Loki's a cunt, and there was no way you were goin' to know that unless he <em>wanted </em>you to," he continued to push it, desperate for an understanding. "And if you did, who's to say you could stop him? This was gonna happen either way, kid. What matters is what you do moving forward. You can't change the past, but you <em>can </em>change the future."</p>
<p>A strangled but instinctive laugh bubbled out of Cassandra, her forehead pressed to Logan's chest. "You sound like Charles."</p>
<p>Logan grunted, "Ouch. I'm right, though."</p>
<p>"What am I supposed to do?" Cassandra leaned away, watery eyes looking up into his in search of affirmation, of guidance. "He's too powerful—and he's bringing an <em>army</em>, Logan. From another realm, for god's sake!"</p>
<p>"You fight. <em>We </em>fight. There ain't a snowball's chance in hell you're doin' this alone," Logan answered, seriously. Then, with a small sigh, he tipped his head to his right, toward a hallway, in a momentary gesture. "I already brought the cavalry—well, some of it."</p>
<p>Cassandra's eyes were quick to shift to her left as the words fell from his lips. Just at the corner, Lori materialized, her form coming into view in quick but blotchy patches that eased their way together to form a complete visage. Over her shoulder, blue skin marked the familiar appearance of Kurt. He removed his hand from Lori's shoulder with a small and sheepish smile full of teeth. "We're here to help," Kurt said, his accent a bittersweet sound as he spoke confidently.</p>
<p>"We were supposed to be transport," Lori explained. "But this whole situation is getting out of control. You need more hands."</p>
<p>Cassandra sniffled hard and released Logan's jacket, instead moving her hands to her face in an attempt to dry her cheeks, to fix the mess her tears had undoubtedly made. "We're gonna need a <em>lot </em>more hands. No offense."</p>
<p>"None taken. The others are waiting for our call at the mansion," Lori nodded.</p>
<p>Logan added, "Once we know what's going on, we'll bring them in."</p>
<p>All Cassandra could do was nod. Though, worry did begin to creep up inside at the thought that touched her mind. What would Fury do when he found out the others had helped themselves to his helicarrier? Would he even hear them out, after what had just happened? It was incredibly dangerous, and they could not risk a two-front war with both Loki and S.H.I.E.L.D. But what other option did they have? They would simply have to be direct and pray for a better outcome.</p>
<p>She palmed at her cheeks a last time, exhaling deeply through her nostrils as the last of the anxious, guilty waves drained out of her stomach. It was time to put it all away now. Somewhere, she had to hide it, force it inside and lock it down. So, she swallowed it—stealing her features, she stepped back from Logan and wiped her tear-soaked palms on the fronts of her jeans. "We need to talk to Director Fury," Cassandra said, glancing at each of them. "Maybe Charles can help us track down Loki. Or, at least the Tesseract. I think I can look for it if I could broaden my range."</p>
<p>"Alright. Lead the way," Logan nodded.</p>
<p>She returned the nod and stepped around him, beginning to walk the hallway in the direction she assumed was the bridge. After being a few places, it wasn't too hard to remember which direction was North. It took subconscious focus, but it was possible, the information stored at the back of her mind for safe keeping. Logan walked beside her, eyes scanning either side of the hall and paying close attention to anyone who passed in either direction. Lori and Kurt trailed just behind them, following the direction Cassandra took, despite the anxiousness a place like the helicarrier caused.</p>
<p>Neither Lori nor Kurt were strangers to the insides of military installations. The armed agents, guards at doorways, the basic appearance of the interior—it was terrifying. They shared an uneasy glance but otherwise pressed forward, swallowing down the anxious urge to run as they followed, approaching the bridge. The room's morale had drastically dropped since the last time Cassandra was in it. Now, agents moved about quickly, doing this and that, but their faces were sullen. It was a more than noticeable shift.</p>
<p>Director Fury stood a few feet from the table when the small group entered, talking to Agent Hill with a serious expression and a hushed voice. His eye glanced twice in their direction before his head lifted to look fully. The action turned Agent Hill's head as well, and she tensed at the sight of the new passengers. Cassandra walked straight toward Fury, not stopping until she'd reached him, while Lori and Kurt came to stand along the backs of the chairs at the table. Logan remained beside her. His calm but disgruntled demeanor did not do his anger justice.</p>
<p>"I don't remember asking for help from the X-Men," Fury commented, dry in the mild sarcasm, his brows lowered at Cassandra. "Loki escaped with the scepter while you were making conversation with the Hulk."</p>
<p>Cassandra glared at the Director. "I can find your fucking cube. And Loki."</p>
<p>"And how do you plan to do that?" Fury questioned, skeptical but intrigued.</p>
<p>"Charles Xavier. He can give me a longer arm to reach with, and then I can find it through its energy signal," Cassandra explained, folding her arms over her chest. "Think about it—it's the most powerful energy source on this planet right now. It's not going to be hard to track it down."</p>
<p>Director Fury was taken aback by her sudden willingness to help, to do what he'd failed to ask for. Though, he raised an eyebrow as he glanced at the others she'd brought with her. "What are they going to do?"</p>
<p>"There's an alien army coming to invade Earth. You really think you're going to stop it with bullets?" she cocked an eyebrow, challenging.</p>
<p>"Fair enough," Fury sighed. "Get started. But I want to be the first to know when you've located the Tesseract."</p>
<p>Struggling to refrain from rolling her eyes, Cassandra raised two fingers to give a mock salute. Fury's head tilted as his expression slacked, steeling—saying, <em>really?</em>—but she paid no attention as she turned away, moving to face the others. Lori stepped forward, then, as her eyes shifted from the bustling agents to Cassandra's face. "Charles is ready when you are. Do you want to find a quiet place?" she asked her.</p>
<p>But Cassandra shook her head. "No, it's okay. We'll sit here."</p>
<p>Lori was disappointed she wouldn't be leaving the room full of armed government agents anytime soon, but she kept the thought to herself as she turned to slide into one of the chairs. Kurt followed suit, taking the seat next to her, closest to the wall. Cassandra reached for the backing of the chair in front of her when a male voice spoke her name. It called into her left ear, turning her head as her eyes searched for the source. Steve had just entered the room.</p>
<p>He walked toward her and the table, his eyes lingering cautiously on Logan—and Logan eyed him right back. Though, Logan couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. S.H.I.E.L.D. brought in Captain America? It made sense now, Cassandra's quick exit during their phone call, with the male voice he'd heard sounding an awful lot like Steve's when he called her name. He wondered, briefly, why she wouldn't mention it. Was it purely for a time constraint? Or something else?</p>
<p>"You okay?" Steve asked Cassandra, finally meeting her eyes as he came to stand before her. "I didn't see you after the explosion."</p>
<p>"I'll be sore tomorrow, but I'm Fine," Cassandra shook her head, waving away the notion.</p>
<p>Logan cocked his head, looking down at her beside him. "Explosion?"</p>
<p>"We had some engine trouble," she explained it calmly, attempting to appear nonchalant about the issue, as she turned her head to see him. Then, she shifted her weight on her feet and gestured a hand between Logan and Steve. "Steve Rogers, Logan. Logan, Steve Rogers."</p>
<p>Steve leaned forward to hold out his hand, despite the cautionary expression still on his features, and Logan shook it with his own. "And this is Lori, and Kurt," Cassandra added quickly, pointing toward the others sitting at the table. As Steve retracted his hand from Logan's grip, he looked to where she'd pointed, and something inside him startled. Outwardly, he simply pulled his lips inward in a closed-mouthed smile and gave a nod of his head which the others reciprocated. He fought his eyes to keep them from lingering on Kurt for too long, though his appearance did intrigue him.</p>
<p>Clearly he was a mutant as well—but Steve wondered many things. Was he born with blue skin? What did it have to do with his abilities? Was there a reason he looked vaguely animalistic? Still, he kept them to himself. Lori smiled and gave a small wave. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she said. "Feel free to ask questions, and we'll try to answer them as best we can."</p>
<p>Cassandra pulled out her chair and lowered herself into it. "Always the educator."</p>
<p>"Well, I imagine this is very confusing. Knowledge wasn't exactly extensive on mutants in the forties," Lori tipped her head in a momentary expression. Logan settled into the chair at the head of the table, beside Cassandra, with a heavy sigh. Originally, his plan involved convincing Blink to simply open a portal. He would go alone and talk to Cassandra to find out what was happening. Then, the others became aware of that plan—thanks to Kurt's addiction to snooping.</p>
<p>Charles insisted he take others and Kurt volunteered, then Lori offered to keep them invisible to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s security cameras. After all, Cassandra did say the security was 'insane' on the helicarrier. So, there he was, stuck babysitting once again. No matter how old the kids became, he would always be babysitting. After all, no one could protect them like he could. No one could make the tough decisions like he could. They would always need him.</p>
<p>Steve walked around the end of the table to sit just across from Kurt. Although Lori had said to ask questions, he was unsure if he truly should. He was worried the questions he had would sound worse than he'd intended them. But, despite the concern, his curiosity was spiking higher the longer he sat quietly. Clearing his throat, he rested a forearm atop the glass table. "So, what can you do?" he asked, careful in his intonation.</p>
<p>"I can turn myself and anything I touch invisible," Lori answered, before leaning forward, folding her arms on the table top.</p>
<p>Kurt was hesitant, but he answered with a dip of his head, "I am a teleporter."</p>
<p>"Like Cassandra," Steve noted, in realization.</p>
<p>"I am <em>just </em>a teleporter," Kurt explained, timidly. "I cannot manipulate energy as she can."</p>
<p>Cassandra, however, was not listening. She hadn't been since just after the conversation started. Instead, she leaned into the table top on her elbow, fingers of the same hand touched to her temple in concentration, her other hand resting palm up on the glass. Eyes screwed shut, she forced herself to concentrate. Charles existed in her mind in the form of warmth, vibration, a pulsating density at the base of her skull. In her mind, she could see it all. All that he saw, she saw, too—and wisps of lavender danced across the skin of her open palm.</p>
<p>The gentle arch of her fingers allowed the lavender containment. Though, Steve couldn't stop himself from eyeing the display, his features slanted with a mixture of curiosity and concern from across the table. "So...what do <em>you </em>do?" he asked, slowly, as his eyes hesitantly shifted away, to Logan at the end.</p>
<p>Logan sat slightly slouched, leaned against the backing of the chair. His eyes slid across the table, from Cassandra's face to Steve's, and he grunted. "Pretty sure if I show you in <em>here</em>, we're gonna get twenty-five to life."</p>
<p>"Knives come out of his hands," Lori sighed, rolling her eyes toward Steve.</p>
<p>Steve's eyebrows shot up. "<em>Knives</em>?"</p>
<p>"Metal bones," Logan corrected Lori, looking to her with the ghost of annoyance across his tired features. "It's not like my knuckles turn into steak knives after six PM."</p>
<p>Kurt snickered at the other end of the table, and Lori only wrinkled her nose, making a face at Logan—however brief. "Yeah, it's badass—can you guys please be quiet for a minute?" Cassandra asked, quiet but deepened with concentration as she struggled not to lose her place for the interruption.</p>
<p>Lori's lips spread thin as her eyes momentarily rounded in an <em>oops</em> expression before holding up a thumb in Cassandra's general line of sight, though her eyes were still screwed tightly shut. In her head, her vision was mapped out, energy signals glowing at various levels across the world. Thanks to Charles, she'd been able to narrow it down to the US—wherein, though, was still up for debate. The lavender wisps sparking in her palm shifted color, shimmering a darker shade of purple now as the electricity spiked, pulling hard on her gut.</p>
<p>She could feel it—the energy signal was tainted with the echo of the kind of power she'd felt from the scepter—but it was erratic, <em>evasive</em>. It shifted and moved, slipping out of her grasp. Then, finally, Tony entered the room. He sauntered in with a disgruntled expression that only worsened at the sight of the other X-Men at the table, and he let out a deep groan. "Seriously? More of them?" Stark questioned, glancing at Fury as he rounded the back of Logan's chair.</p>
<p>Fury only raised an eyebrow before both knitted, a glare of annoyance threatening to settle in. "I didn't invite them, Mr. Stark."</p>
<p>"Oh, great—they're inviting <em>themselves </em>now," Tony sat a chair over from Steve, dropping into the seat with a heavy sigh. As his hand scrubbed over his face, both Lori and Logan settled their heated gazes on him. Logan sat up in his chair, clasping his hands as his arms rested atop the table, and he stared. He expected nothing less than the display he was being given—then again, how casual a person could be about their hatred for others different from them never did surprise him much.</p>
<p>It was all the same. The same hatred, same bigotry, just different vessels carrying it through the generations. As Tony's hands fell to fold across his chest, he caught Logan's eyes, and sighed once more. "What do you want? An autograph? I'm a little busy at the moment, but I'll have my secretary pencil you in somewhere," his sarcasm was dry and ill proposed.</p>
<p>Something in Cassandra's gut pulled again—this time, hard enough to give her body a jolt. She startled, sitting upright as her eyes finally blinked open, and her jaw fell. The sound of Tony's voice brought forth a subconscious hatred that, unknowingly, guided her right to the source of the signal. "That's it," she realized. "Stark Tower. They're at Stark Tower."</p>
<p>"I'm sorry—<em>who</em> is at my tower?" Tony questioned, slumped in his seat with a raised brow.</p>
<p>"That big ugly building in New York?" Steve questioned Cassandra. He wasted no time in standing from his chair, ignoring Tony's question—and the offended expression sent his way. "You're sure?"</p>
<p>She nodded, pushing herself up to stand. "Selvig, Loki, the Tesseract—all of them."</p>
<p>"Do you have a suit?" Steve asked the question as he rounded the end of the table, taking steps toward her side and, eventually, the door. When she nodded once more, he continued, "It's time to put it on."</p>
<p>Logan, Lori, and Kurt all stood up from the table. It was then that Fury approached, Hill just behind him. "I know none of you signed up for this...but we'll take any help we can get," he said, his eye predominantly on Logan. However genuine the Director seemed, Logan was skeptical, staring back at the man with squared shoulders.</p>
<p>"Whoever helps gets immunity," Logan told Fury. "That's the only way we bring the real backup."</p>
<p>Fury gazed thoughtfully for a brief, quiet moment. Although he didn't have any intention of denying Logan's request, he wasn't about to make it <em>seem </em>easy—especially not with Tony Stark around. He'd never hear the end of it. So, he waited a beat before replying, using a somewhat begrudged tone. "Fine. But there can be no unnecessary funny business, understand? Do what needs to be done, report back, and go home."</p>
<p>Logan nodded once, biting his tongue. "Deal."</p>
<p>Cassandra was side-stepping, bent to the left to look beneath the table, trying to track down her duffel bag. She'd left it here, before all hell broke loose. However, that hell included explosions and a tilted aircraft—so, it was highly unlikely to be in the same spot as before. But she didn't expect it to be so far gone. "This yours?" Agent Hill was suddenly beside her, pulling her eyes from the floor with her interruption. The agent held up a hand, clutching the strap of her duffel. "I saw you bring it in, so I grabbed it after things settled down."</p>
<p>"Thanks," Cassandra gratefully took the bag from her, pulling the strap onto her shoulder. Agent Hill only nodded and turned on her heel, before walking back toward the stairs, as Fury returned to his spot by the railing. As Logan faced Cassandra, she gestured with the bag. "I'm gonna get changed and check on Clint."</p>
<p>"We'll fill in the others. Be careful," Logan replied.</p>
<p>There was no hiding his caution. Here, on the helicarrier, they were all one rude comment and a high-ranking agent's bad day away from dissection. Now more than ever, discretion was survival. She nodded a little, "You, too." And he returned the nod. Cassandra then moved for the exit. As she walked, she planned—recalling the path she'd taken to the bathroom. Then, the path to Clint's room. Her feet—carrying shaking muscles and unsteady balance—moved quickly, bringing her to the small bathroom, where she locked herself inside.</p>
<p>Cassandra had been in many positions where getting dressed could only take a few seconds. Even after all this time, it was muscle memory, guiding her hands and feet into the leather. Fingers pulled the zipper up to her neck, before tugging boots on her feet. She tucked her duffel beneath the sink, slipping her phone inside—and then she was out. As she left the bathroom, she started to jog. The infirmary room wasn't too far from the bridge. Though, the anxiety pushing her to move faster was still there, commanding her.</p>
<p>Agents passing moved at normal speed now. It seemed the time for emergency protocols had passed. She imagined she stuck out like a sore thumb, the only one running like nothing had been resolved, in the briefest of thoughts. Then, she rounded the final corner. Slowing her pace to a quickened walk, she approached the door, and her hands <em>trembled</em>. All the reasons why she'd left the room were threatening to creep back inside. Genuinely, she wanted to see her brother. But her gut twisted at the thought of resentment—a worry present despite its lack of probability.</p>
<p>The door hissed open. She stood still as her eyes landed on an empty bed. Agent Romanoff sat perched on the side, near the end of it, and she twisted to see the door at the sound of Cassandra's entry. "Did we find him?" Romanoff asked, eyeing the leather suit clinging to Cassandra's form.</p>
<p>"I did," Cassandra corrected her with a nod. "Do you know how to pilot one of those jets?"</p>
<p>Then, from the left, "I can."</p>
<p>Clint's voice was like a rush of warm water down her back, turning her head almost immediately in his direction as he exited the small bathroom. Her heart faltered in her chest, relief and guilt filling her eyes all the same, and she swallowed hard. "You can't—you need to rest," she shook her head quickly. But Clint continued out of the bathroom and stepped toward her, coming closer than they'd been in months.</p>
<p>"What I <em>need </em>to do is protect my family—you, Laura, the kids, Barney. They're all in danger with Loki still out there, and there's only one way this ends," he told her, quiet but certain. Cassandra's shoulders stiffened as her eyes shifted over his shoulder, down to Agent Romanoff. Clint gave a small shake of his head, "She knows."</p>
<p>The corner of Agent Romanoff's mouth tugged up in a small, knowing smile. It was a momentary relief. Though, Cassandra's eyes were on Clint's again in a heartbeat, tilting her head in an expression. "This ends with an energy blast through Loki's chest. That's <em>my </em>job. If something happens to you, then who's going to protect your family? It's safer here-"</p>
<p>"Cassandra, hey, stop," he interrupted her calmly, placing gentle hands on the sides of her shoulders. Her fingers fidgeted anxiously at her sides, making a fist and relaxing in an attempt to feel busied, to ignore the ache beginning to burn within her chest. Clint looked down at her in silence for a moment. She was worse for wear, visibly tired with crinkles at the corners of her eyes from pain and stress. Still, he hadn't seen his sister's face in far too long. He needed to look at her, to convince the rest of his brain to stay <em>here</em>, to anchor it where it belonged. "<em>You're</em> my family. If we do this, we do it together."</p>
<p>With a trembling sigh, Cassandra fell forward, her forehead meeting his chest as her arms snaked around his torso. Clint wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held on tight. It was a brief moment of peace, though it was hard not to feel the tangible danger looming. The threat that crept up at their backs, anticipation of a strike driving anxiety into their chests, but they needed this moment. A little bit of warmth before it was all taken away. It was interrupted by the sound of the door hissing open behind Cassandra.</p>
<p>She pulled away instinctively, twisting to see the doorway as Steve ducked his head in. Shoulders clad in blue, a white star on his chest, he was ready to dive head first into danger. But hesitation danced across his features as his eyes settled on Clint and Cassandra. "Sorry to interrupt. We need to go," he told Cassandra, apologetically.</p>
<p>"Where are we going?" Natasha asked, as she stood from the bed. She stepped up beside Clint as Cassandra turned to better see Steve at the door.</p>
<p>"We'll tell you on the way," Steve replied. Then, he looked to Clint, "You got a suit?"</p>
<p>Clint nodded, a corner of his mouth curved up. "Yeah. Not as fancy as Cass's, but I got one."</p>
<p>"If <em>fancy </em>means old and slightly too small," Cassandra wrinkled her nose.</p>
<p>"At least yours wasn't designed in the forties," Natasha smirked, before tilting her head in a gesture. "Let's get to the armory."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. don't stop</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lavender wisps curled and fluttered, disappearing quickly in the breeze at the height of Stark Tower, as they revealed Cassandra's frame. An older-looking man in a blue button-up and khaki pants stood at the computer before a large machine, the Tesseract held in its center. "Dr. Selvig!" Cassandra called out, taking steps toward him. The doctor looked over his shoulder at the sound of her voice, and her feet instinctively faltered. His eyes were the same as Clint's, with icy blue coloring the iris and pupil. Not only that—he was unkempt and tired-looking. Had he eaten? Had he slept since Loki took him? "Shut it down, doctor!"</p>
<p>"It's too late! She can't stop now!" he replied, before walking toward the side of the machine, closer to the Tesseract.</p>
<p>Cassandra paused near the computer. "She?"</p>
<p>"The Tesseract. She wants to show us something! A new universe."</p>
<p>He was clearly deranged, made so by either the Tesseract or the scepter or both. Whatever the reason—it only caused her to pity him. After all, he would not be here if it weren't for Loki's mind control. No, he would be adamantly opposed, even so under duress. Yet there they both stood on either side of the line atop the roof. Cassandra could feel the energy radiating off the machine like warm tidal rings that pulsated down her spine, the pointed tip of the somewhat cylindrical machine beginning to spin.</p>
<p>Taking in a deep breath, she lifted her hand. "It's time to wake up, doctor."</p>
<p>Selvig's head turned to look in her direction at the sound of her words, though she doubted he truly understood anything said to him. She grabbed hold of the energy occupying his mind and the doctor's face contorted, knee buckling, with a strangled sound. Pulling it out was always the easy part. It came free just as the energy inside of Clint, held tightly by her hands as Selvig fell unconscious on the gravel beneath their feet. The blue energy twisted and fluttered between her palms.</p>
<p>Knuckles paling, she struggled to hold it, the concentration of it pushing and pulling away from her—almost <em>violently</em>. Though the edges and various wisps shaded purple, lavender crawling over the translucent, smoke-like substance, the majority of it remained the same. There was nothing more she could do, she knew, if she could not force it to conform. Her eyes shifted up to the device harnessing the Tesseract. The tip was spinning faster by the second, working itself up to an unknown speed, most likely in order to finish its task.</p>
<p>Then, she had a thought. If she couldn't disperse it, could she use this energy for other means? What would the Tesseract do if it was attacked by its own level of energy? She took in another deep breath through her nostrils, muscles gently trembling against her constriction, and then turned her palms outward. The energy burst from its containment, straight toward the Tesseract. However, the beam was intercepted by a circular energy field surrounding the device.</p>
<p>Cassandra pressed harder, concentrating the energy in her hands to localize and strengthen it—pressurizing it like a thumb on a garden hose. The energy carved into the field a little deeper, though it did not break. "<em>Any day now, Cass</em>," Tony's voice came through the earpiece settled into her right ear, impatience and a vague hint of gruffness to his voice.</p>
<p>Gritting her teeth, she resisted the urge to snap. "Aren't you supposed to be <em>stalling</em>?"</p>
<p>"<em>I'm in the middle of it, pissy pants. Kinda hard when you're thrown out of your own window.</em>"</p>
<p>"Woe is you."</p>
<p>The sound of the Iron Man suit's thrusters echoed into her ear from somewhere in the distance, but she didn't dare look. Taking a step closer to the machine, she pressed even harder, groaning as the energy from her palms began to burn into her skin. The beam of blue was slowly turning purple, lavender and electricity gradually crawling toward the energy field, but it was not enough. The tip of the machine was whirring now, spinning incomprehensibly fast. Then, a thick beam of pure blue energy shot from the tip, racing toward the sky.</p>
<p>Energy radiated off of it in a strong wave and Cassandra was pushed backward, boots stumbling quickly across the gravel to keep her balance, the beam aimed at the energy field broken entirely. Head tipped back, she watched as the beam connected with the sky. A deep, dark blue and a rich black appeared in the spot they touched, and it began to creep outward with smoke-like wisps, tendrils of energy that opened the sky.</p>
<p>It looked like a festering wound, a ring of energy with a molded appearance around a large, gaping hole. Despite the elevation difference, the dark figures that flooded out as wasps from a hive held a visible shape. Somewhat human-looking beings—as that they stood on two legs, with a face and hands—on small hovercrafts, plated with gold armor. They poured through the hole and dispersed in all directions before they could reach the depth of the tower roof, but Cassandra found herself instinctively ducking regardless.</p>
<p>Tony flew up in his suit, blasting as many as he could before they reached the city, but there were far too many. Those that reached the city flew through the streets, blasting anything in their sights. Cars exploded, buildings were shot at, and the people running wildly for cover in the streets were like disturbed ants. Pedestrians and random civilians ran as fast as they could, some with no visible refuge in sight. "<em>Stark, we're on your three. Headed Northeast</em>," Romanoff's voice came over the earpiece then.</p>
<p>"<em>What, did you stop for drive-thru?</em>" Tony questioned. "<em>Head up Park. I'm gonna lay 'em out for you</em>."</p>
<p>"<em>Copy</em>."</p>
<p>Tony flew along to draw fire from the nearby Chitauri. They followed him on their hovercrafts as planned, right toward a <em>T</em> intersection, as Clint and Agent Romanoff piloted the quinjet up the vertical line. They readied the guns as Tony flew past them. Then, they fired on the Chitauri that followed. Many in the small group were shot out of the sky, their remnants fallen on the street and exploded cars below, while the minority left flew away.</p>
<p>The quinjet flew up above the buildings, coming around the back side of Stark Tower. On the deck of the top floor, gods collided. Thor and Loki tussled viciously—though, neither of them truly wanted to win this fight. "Nat?" Clint called, angling the jet.</p>
<p>Romanoff, readying the guns, replied, "I see him."</p>
<p>She began spraying the deck with bullets as Loki managed to wrangle Thor off of him, pushing him away. But Loki turned to face the jet and raised the scepter. He shot a blast of energy at the jet's left engine and the wing caught fire as it whirred and stuttered. The craft tipped to the right and dipped, falling toward the street. Clint guided the descending jet as best he could, aiming it through the streets for a non-occupied section of pavement near a sky-scrapper a block away.</p>
<p>Cassandra watched over the edge of the roof at Stark Tower. Her gut clenched, contents sloshing as the quinjet crashed into the concrete. There was minimal physical damage but she wanted to <em>scream</em>. A trembling hand scrambled for her earpiece, lungs burning as they pumped far too quickly. "Clint, Romanoff? Are you guys okay?"</p>
<p>"<em>We're okay</em>," Romanoff replied. "<em>All of us</em>."</p>
<p>A bout of relief was felt in Cassandra's bones, but it was too small. She took steps back from the edge of the roof. There was nothing she could do up here. If such powerful energy like that from the scepter couldn't even break through the energy field, what could? Therefore, she saw her opportunity, and she jogged toward the edge. As she reached it, she gave a hop. Then she was free-falling into the open abyss of the divide between buildings, toward the chaos on the street below, as though she were a bird in a backward nose-dive.</p>
<p>Once down far enough, she vanished within her purple smoke, only to appear a few yards lower. She repeated the process once more before reaching the street. Her speed had not slowed down quite as much as necessary, causing her feet to trip over themselves to run fast enough in order to stay upright. But she dug her heels in, forcefully slowing herself, as she leaned her weight backward. Steve, Clint, and Agent Romanoff were all running toward her from the crashed quinjet just down the street. "Did you just do what I think you did?" Clint shouted to be heard as they approached.</p>
<p>Gasping in a breath, Cassandra nodded, signing. "Fastest way to travel. What's the plan?"</p>
<p>"Oh my god," Romanoff mumbled. Her eyes were straight up, watching the hole in the sky. Reflexively, Cassandra twisted, turning to look up with her head tilted back—and her jaw fell open. Through the black hole came a monstrous creature, roaring like something prehistoric. It was long and spiny and plated with armor. If she was asked to describe it, Cassandra could only call it a <em>space whale</em>.</p>
<p>It floated through the air like a marine mammal, dipping low enough to break the statue atop the building in front of them on the ground. From its sides, Chitauri warriors sprung free, clinging to the buildings on either side of the horrendous creature. They broke in through glass windows and the screams of terror resulting from the barrage of blaster fire inside could all be heard at street-level.</p>
<p>"Oh, <em>fuck </em>this," Cassandra spoke beneath her breath, stepping backward as her eyes followed the creature above them while it passed.</p>
<p>Steve questioned into his comm, "Stark, are you seeing this?"</p>
<p>"<em>Seeing. Still working on believing. Where's Banner? Has he shown up yet?</em>"</p>
<p>"Banner?" Steve was confused.</p>
<p>"<em>Just keep me posted</em>."</p>
<p>Debris fell from the buildings as the Chitauri climbed about. Clint sidestepped and grabbed hold of Cassandra's arm before giving it a tug, pulling her toward him as he began to move. "We need to take cover and regroup," he said, an eye still lingering on the chaos above them. Cassandra moved willingly, quickly with him toward a nearby taxi cab. Agent Romanoff was soon behind them, the three crouching behind the vehicle, and Steve followed suit just a moment later.</p>
<p>As Cassandra's back hit the taxi door, she exhaled a shaky breath. "Charles, now would be a good time to bring in the cavalry," she thought aloud, eyes straight ahead. "Are you still listening?"</p>
<p>A sound came from behind the taxi cab, popping and sizzling like a live wire, and Steve rotated on the balls of his feet to see over the vehicle's trunk. As his eyes settled over the obscure of the metal, a rush of wind pulled his eyes skyward almost immediately. White wings broadened to their full span as they carried a human form quickly over their heads. Adrenaline rushed through Cassandra's veins at the familiar sight of Warren soaring above. He flew up higher in an arch, close to the side of a building, and latched onto a Chitauri.</p>
<p>Warren wrapped an arm tightly around the Chitauri's neck and pulled as he pushed off the brick with his legs, diving toward the street as the Chitauri's gun blasted in its flailing arms. He ripped the gun from the Chitauri and hit the breaks, reversing his thrust as he dropped the alien warrior. Flying upward again, he aimed the blaster at the Chitauri on the ground and fired. The trunk of the taxi cab crushed beneath the weight of Beast's body as he leapt onto it, looking over the side at the four still crouching behind.</p>
<p>All startled away at the sudden sound, but Cassandra's lips broke into a wide grin, pushing up to her feet. "Where do you want us?" Hank asked, eyes shifting from Cassandra to the Captain on the ground.</p>
<p>Around him, Cassandra could see them—<em>the X-Men</em>. Blink held open a portal long enough for all to pass through. Then, she allowed it to close, stepping forward to join the others. Blink, Bobby, Kitty, Peter, Jubilee, Kurt, Lori, Scott, Storm, Logan, and Rogue all walked toward the taxi in their suits now. Steve, Romanoff, and Clint all stood from behind the taxi and stepped out, all wearing expressions of surprise. "Is this everyone?" Steve asked, as his shocked eyes swept quickly over the group.</p>
<p>Hank hopped from the back of the taxi, the vehicle swaying as his feet landed on the pavement beside Steve. "Were you expecting more?" he asked, an amused smirk playing at his lips.</p>
<p>"This is more than enough," Steve shook his head, still taken aback. "Are you the leader?"</p>
<p>"That's usually me," Scott stepped forward. The movement drew her eyes and Cassandra couldn't help but frown. They would need his help, she knew. Any help at all would be greatly accepted. But the sight of him churned up remaining resentment within her gut she couldn't quite swallow just yet.</p>
<p>A barrage of hovercrafts zipped through the air above then, and all looked up. Loki's appearance on one of them was hard to miss. They flew quickly, over the bridge, and began firing at the cars on the street. The cars exploded, flames fanning high as chunks of hot metal were sent outward. Civilians ran in terror, screaming and shrieking. "Cass, it's your call," Steve said, eyes darting from the destruction to Cassandra's face. "You know who can do what, but we've gotta get moving fast."</p>
<p>With a sharp exhale through her nostrils, Cassandra nodded once. "Beast, Jubilee, Iceman, Cyclops, and Blink—go with Cap and fan out. Storm, Nightcrawler—take care of the bogies up top with Angel. The rest—stay here and hold off the others coming down from the portal."</p>
<p>The team members moved the second the last order left her mouth. Steve hopped onto the cement railing and leapt from it, landing on a parked bus below. Beast followed suit, while Blink opened another portal, allowing Bobby, Jubilee, and Cyclops quick access to the blazing street below, before hopping through herself. Storm rose up in a strong wind, lightning whipping the sky as her eyes turned white, and Kurt disappeared from the remaining group in a blue cloud. He resurfaced on the side of a nearby building, swiping a blaster from a Chitauri with his tail.</p>
<p>"There's people on that bus," Clint realized aloud, tipping his head toward the parked bus not far away on the bridge.</p>
<p>Kitty looked to Rogue and Lori, and nodded. "On it."</p>
<p>The trio turned and ran for the bus, and Clint followed. Agent Romanoff unholstered her guns and began firing at the approaching Chitauri at the other end of the bridge. Peter armored up, skin replaced with metal, and <em>Colossus</em> ran into the line of blaster fire. "Stay close, kid," Logan directed his words at Cassandra as he walked by her suddenly, moving quickly.</p>
<p>"I'll try," Cassandra replied, with an unsure shrug of one shoulder.</p>
<p>Logan pushed the blades of his hands through the skin and ran into the incoming Chitauri behind Colossus, slashing at the armor and their exposed bodies. On the street below, Bobby shielded civilians with walls of ice. It was a temporary barrier brought down with a single blast, but it gave Scott enough time to shoot down the Chitauri overhead that aimed at them. Beast tore apart any that made it to the ground as Steve sprinted toward the next block, where police had parked their cruisers in a cluster.</p>
<p>Even still, more Chitauri sped by on their hovercraft, shooting at civilians and random buildings. There was no pattern to the chaos, no purpose—other than pure and total destruction. Angel flew quickly behind the hovercrafts, now two blocks away, and shot at them with the blaster he'd taken. Storm was a little higher, above it all where she could attack the trickle of Chitauri still coming through the portal in the sky. Cassandra forced herself to focus amongst the mess on the bridge. Lavender energy cracked and popped as it exploded from her hands, aimed straight for the faces of three approaching Chitauri.</p>
<p>The first mark was reached—blasting a gruesome hole through the skin and meat and bone, causing the warrior to collapse, dead. A second bolt of energy had the same result on another, dropping it to the ground with an interrupted screeching sound. Explosions rumbled from all directions, shaking the ground as she released a third energy bolt, but the Chitauri ducked. It learned easily from the others, reacted as quickly as she had, and it aimed its blaster directly at her. As it fired, her hands made fists, shooting up in an <em>X</em> that crossed at her forearms.</p>
<p>Heat burned from within the bones of her arms as purple rippled out in a swift wave. The energy absorbed the blast before hitting the Chitauri, melting the armor to its frame as its face dissolved, crumpling the alien to a sizzling heap on the pavement. "Remind me never to piss you off!" Agent Romanoff shouted the comment from behind a parked taxi, over the sound of bullets firing from a gun in each hand.</p>
<p>Cassandra huffed a reactionary, airy chuckle and continued to aim her hands, sending purple bolts at incoming forces as quickly as she could. Once the bus at the end of the bridge was unloaded and the civilians were out of the line of fire, Clint joined Romanoff's side, shooting arrows from behind the taxi. "We need to get people out of those buildings!" Lori shouted, ducking behind another abandoned vehicle feet from Cassandra. Rogue and Kitty knelt beside her, all three looking to Cassandra for the next task.</p>
<p>"The three of you go! Kitty, keep them intangible until you get inside," Cassandra replied, with a glance over her shoulder. "Don't engage—call for backup!"</p>
<p>"Got it!"</p>
<p>Kitty held out her hands and Lori took the left, Rogue grasping the right, and the three shot up from behind the vehicle. They ran along the length of the bridge and to the next corner, then followed it to the left, out of sight. It was difficult to tell your friends to run into danger. Cassandra understood that long before being in a leadership position—but, now that she was here, it was <em>hell</em>. Worry gnawed at her like a dog with a rawhide, gnashing its teeth at the small semblance of focus she had achieved.</p>
<p>That, and the exertion from using her own energy to fight, was only weakening her. However, the bridge was almost empty. And it was then that bolts of lightning struck the remaining four Chitauri, dropping them dead as Thor landed heavily beside a car. The pavement beneath him crumbled and he faltered, leaning into the metal for a brief moment before pushing off, taking steps toward the others. "I see you've brought allies," he said, a little out of breath as he looked to Cassandra. Though, she was just as out of breath, at the start of exhaustion. "They fight well."</p>
<p>Cassandra nodded. "Figured we could use backup. What's happening with the Tesseract?"</p>
<p>"The power surrounding the Cube is impenetrable. We must focus our efforts on the Chitauri," Thor responded, confident.</p>
<p>Clint and Agent Romanoff came to stand near Cassandra, Logan and Colossus not far away, listening but keeping watch. "Yeah, it's strong shit," Cassandra agreed. "But it buckled before the portal opened."</p>
<p>"You think you can make a blast strong enough to break through?" Romanoff questioned Cassandra, an eyebrow hopefully raised.</p>
<p>"It's possible—but I'm running low on juice," Cassandra told her, with a small shrug.</p>
<p>Logan walked toward the huddle then, retracting the metal claws back into his fists. "Take me with you, use me as leverage," he said, as he reached them. "I'll give faster than you can take."</p>
<p>Cassandra opened her mouth to speak, but promptly closed it. He was right, she knew it—the plan was sound as long as <em>she </em>was right. Though she knew he would heal, she also knew the pain would be excruciating. A faint rumble touched her ears, then, from somewhere down the street. It tugged her eyes away, shuffling her feet to the left to see around the small group. Bruce Banner sat atop a small motorbike. He drove it toward them amongst the chaos left in the wake of the Chitauri, coming to a stop a few yards away.</p>
<p>Bruce climbed off the bike and started in their direction, covered in dirt and grime, with sagging clothes—and Cassandra couldn't help but take steps to close the gap. The others turned and adjusted to see them both as Bruce said, "So, this all looks terrible."</p>
<p>"We've seen worse," Cassandra replied, standing still. "I hate to ask this. Can we borrow the Hulk for a little while?"</p>
<p>Bruce chuckled. "Of course- I owe you one after what happened up there."</p>
<p>"Don't worry about it—he used his manners."</p>
<p><em>And he protected me</em>, she wanted to say. For some unknown, bizarre reason, he protected her. Despite the rage, despite the fear. That fact alone was just enough to win some conditional trust. Bruce's lips held the ghost of a small smile as he contemplated her words. There was one distinct reason that came to mind, one explanation as to why the Hulk would purposefully safeguard <em>her</em>, and it brought a bittersweet kind of ache to the left side of his chest. It was truly no wonder, now that he observed her appearance with unveiled eyes.</p>
<p>"<em>Hey, Sparky</em>," Tony's voice suddenly reached Cassandra's ear, and she instinctively frowned, eyes shifting away. "<em>Look alive. I'm bringing the party to you</em>."</p>
<p>Just then, a prehistoric sounding bellow echoed out and all eyes shot skyward. At the far end of the street, one of the large, floating beasts was chasing after the Iron Man suit—cornering sharply to speed right toward them at the bridge. "I don't see how that's a party," Romanoff shook her head. The beast dipped low, its arms hitting streetlamps and crushing abandoned vehicles as it followed Tony.</p>
<p>Tony shot upward, and the beast continued, even after he was out of sight. Bruce turned to walk toward it. As his feet took steps, they increased in size, green color crawling up to cover his skin. In a matter of seconds, he'd grown several feet taller and his shirt was ripped away in shreds as his arms and torso thickened with muscle. It was leveled, controlled, concise. The Hulk had been ripped from his body by force—but now, it was fueled by cooperation and mutual interest.</p>
<p>The Hulk roared before lurching into a sprint at the quickly incoming beast. He sent his fist into its nose and dug in his heels, slowing it down even as it pushed him along the pavement, concrete breaking and ripping up in chunks. The beast's long body folded, rising high and tipping forward as its momentum was suddenly stopped. Logan was quick to grab Cassandra's arm as the back end of it began to fall forward, right toward the group still at the start of the bridge. "The roof, kid, now!"</p>
<p>As the others in its path dove left and right to escape, Cassandra turned into Logan, gripping his shoulder as she envisioned the roof of Stark Tower. They were taken away in a brief but electric cloud of purple smoke. Tony shot a small missile at the exposed side of the beast and it ruptured, fire and entrails raining down on the bridge as it veered off course. It broke through the bridge railing and crashed onto the street in a heap. Chitauri warriors clinging to the buildings high above screeched at the sight of the small victory—but they were far from retreating.</p>
<p>Cassandra and Logan arrived on the roof of Stark Tower. Dr. Selvig was conscious on the gravel now, pushing himself up to sit with a heavy groan and a hand on the side of his head. He squinted at the X-Men as they approached the machine once more, before quickly glancing at his surroundings. "Oh <em>no</em>," he said, eyes lingering on the random explosions and chaos happening over the edge of the building. "What have I done?"</p>
<p>Cassandra shook her head. "It was Loki—you didn't know what you were doing. I'm gonna need you to get away from the machine."</p>
<p>"What are you going to do?" Selvig asked, as he clambered to his feet.</p>
<p>He walked toward them only to pass by, moving to stand a few feet behind them. "I'm going to close the portal," she answered. With a tilt of her head and a glance upward, dread filled the pit of her stomach. It was a simple answer to a complex and nearly impossible problem. Logan turned to face her, and placed a hand on her shoulder, bringing her eyes back down.</p>
<p>"We can do this," he nodded once, confidently. It was the kind of confidence born from gritted teeth and aching bones, gunpowder and musket burns, the last ounces of will. From doing what needs to be done—and being given no other choice. "No matter what happens, don't stop. Give it all you've got. That's the only way this is going to end."</p>
<p>Swallowing hard, she nodded, a small tremble of her skull. Her eyes found the sparkling blue glow of the Tesseract. As she lifted her hands, she exhaled, shifting her heels into the gravel to brace them. Energy burned through her veins and erupted from her palms, drawing her brows together in a grimace. She could feel Logan's hand on her body, the rich energy swirling within him—and she wrapped mental fingers around it. Logan grunted at the sharp pain in his gut but he held on.</p>
<p>Cassandra directed the new energy through her palms. The added power thickened the beam, deepening its push against the energy field. She channeled it, clenching her jaw as she felt herself leaning forward, physically pushing against the fire in her skin. Purple bent the visible force field, causing it to dip inward, inching closer to the center the harder she pushed. Then, a voice from the depths of her mind, warm against her ears. <em>Cassandra, S.H.I.E.L.D. is sending a nuclear missile</em>. <em>I've alerted the others, but you haven't much time. Hurry</em>.</p>
<p>The information felt like a bat to the spine, a blow to the backs of her knees. She fought to remain focused but a stifled whimper escaped her throat. How could they send a nuke? Why would they result to something so catastrophic? It was confusing, alarming, and heaped anxiety atop her head like hot coals. But Logan's grip on her shoulder tightened, and she understood—<em>don't stop</em>. Voices filtered in and out through her earpiece but she blocked them out. With a half-step forward, she further balanced herself, and forced more energy into the beam.</p>
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